THE STORM
When the young people reached the bathing beach, they were surprised
not to find Frieda and Marjorie already there. Nor was there a sign of
a Ford car.
“A puncture, I’ll bet!” laughed Ruth. “Harold always does have the
worst luck. Remember that time, Jack----”
“Indeed, I do!” he replied. “And weren’t we mad, though! Marj profited
by the delay then, didn’t she? But not this time.”
“Well, she and Frieda can easily walk, unless they insist on helping
Harold,” said Lily. “I hope they come soon.”
But when half an hour had passed, and they had not put in an
appearance, Lily grew anxious.
“Suppose that crazy fool got them again,” she said.
“Oh, Harold could easily beat him up,” remarked Ruth; “he’s strong.”
“But crazy people are supposed to have extraordinary strength!”
“Everybody in to shore!” called Mr. Remington at this moment. “Time to
go home.”
One by one, the members of the party came out of the lake and prepared
to leave the beach.
“What time is it, Mr. Remington?” asked John Hadley.
“Five minutes after one.”
“Something has happened!” cried Lily, in a terror-stricken voice. “Oh,
why did we ever let them out of our sight?”
All this time Ruth could hardly suppress the feeling of exultation
that was taking possession of her. Was Harold really succeeding?
Might she win after all? Then she felt a momentary pang of fear lest
the accident, whatever it was, might be too obvious, and Marjorie’s
keen mind might discover an underlying motive. But after all, the
possibility of such a thing was slight; Harold was too clever for that.
All the joyousness of the breakfast party had vanished when the guests
assembled for their noon-day meal. The subject was all absorbing;
no one talked of anything else.
“What I can’t understand is why we didn’t pass them on the road,” said
Jack. “If anything had happened to the machine, we ought to have seen
it.”
“That’s true, unless they went for a little spin,” said Ruth.
“And what time is the meet?” asked David, unconsciously voicing the
question that was uppermost in everybody’s mind.
“Three o’clock,” replied Mrs. Andrews.
“Felton,” said John Hadley; “will you go out on a search party with me
after lunch? You were successful before----”
“I’ll be only too glad to go,” replied the other, without the least
hesitation.
Ruth glanced up, disappointed at this suggestion, for it would
probably mean that John Hadley would not see the meet. A large part
of the fun in victory was, to her way of thinking, the satisfaction
of having her success witnessed and applauded. She had always longed,
too, to be admired by John Hadley. However, she remembered that she
need not regret his absence too deeply, for Griffith would be there.
And undoubtedly, the commendation of the latter meant more to her at
present than anything else in the world.
At half-past two all of the girls except Doris and Alice, who had
decided not to enter the meet, retired to their rooms to dress.
“Lily Andrews, you move about like an old woman,” teased Ethel. “And if
you don’t get any more pep than that, you surely won’t win.”
“If you keep on crying, the lake will overflow the town,” put in Ruth.
Lily smiled through her tears. “I can’t help it, girls, I’m scared
about Marj and Frieda!”
“Oh, I guess they’re all right,” said Ruth. “Try to brace up, Lil.”
By quarter of three the young people had all assembled on the porch,
ready to get into the cars that stood waiting at the steps. They were
gazing doubtfully at the sky, for the clouds which had been gathering
for the last half hour now hung dark and threatening above them.
“I guess Bob was right,” remarked Jack. “We’re due for a down-pour!”
“Maybe it will pass over,” said Ruth, optimistically. She longed for
her chance to prove herself the victor; now it seemed impossible that
some unforseen circumstance like rain might spoil it all.
“You can’t any of you go a step!” announced Mrs. Andrews, suddenly
appearing in the doorway. “There’s going to be an awful storm!”
Ruth was about to open her mouth in another utterance of protest when
the rain began to pour down in torrents.
“Well, that settles it!” said Mr. Remington. “No more argument now!”
“But it might clear in time,” said Ruth hopefully.
“It doesn’t look much like it,” said Miss Phillips.
Ruth turned away, dismayed, angered, and disheartened. Harold had been
successful, but all to no purpose. Curling up in the corner of the
hammock, she gave herself up to her own gloomy thoughts.
“And I wonder where Marj and Frieda are now,” observed Doris.
“And Harold,” added Ruth.
“And John and Bob,” said Mr. Andrews.
The rain became so heavy that the guests were forced to seek shelter
indoors. Abandoning all idea of holding the meet, the girls excused
themselves to change their swimming suits for ordinary clothing.
About four o’clock the rain slackened to a slow drizzle, and promised
to continue for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. At half
past four one of Mr. Andrews’s big machines stopped at the steps and to
everyone’s intense relief, Bob and John jumped out. The girls were with
them! And so was Harold Mason!
“We found Marj and Frieda several miles up the road, taking refuge from
the rain in a house, and poor Mason was sitting all alone in his busted
Lizzie!” said John in answer to the eager questions put to them from
all present.
The sight of the wet, bedraggled girls in their bathing suits suddenly
struck the rest of the party humorously, and with one accord they burst
into uncontrollable laughter. When this had finally subsided, Frieda
told the story, taking all the blame upon herself.
“And we were scared for fear that old man had got hold of you again,”
said Lily, after the account was finished. “You didn’t see anything of
him, did you?”
“Only his beard,” laughed Marjorie, drawing the shock of grey hair from
her pocket. “I found this in the back of Harold’s car.”
Although the owner was inwardly dumbfounded at these words, only
Marjorie and Ruth noticed any embarrassment in his manner as he
stumbled upon an explanation.
“Oh, that!” he laughed. “I’m Foxy Grandpop in a play at home, and
that’s part of the makeup. And that reminds me, Mrs. Andrews, that we
have a dress rehearsal tomorrow which I must attend, so I’m afraid I’ll
have to leave right away.”
“But your car----” interrupted Jack.
“I’ll have to go by train. But if I phone to the garage to go get it
and fix it up, couldn’t you drive it down, Wilkinson? Or Ruth--could
you----?”
“Certainly,” answered Ruth, perceiving how uncomfortable Harold’s
position was, and realizing how he longed to escape. “Go by all means.
It’ll be a lark to drive it down!”
“And I promise not to touch the wheel, Mr. Mason,” said Frieda
penitently, as the guests separated to dress for dinner.
Since the rain seemed likely to continue all evening, Mrs. Andrews
suggested a program of bridge and other games. The young people
assented joyfully, pleading, however, for half an hour or so to make
their final tennis arrangements; for Mr. Andrews said he could postpone
the entries no longer.
Immediately after dinner, with a feeling of something like relief,
Ruth watched Harold depart. Fearing that Marjorie might know more
than she should about the adventure, she wished to have the remainder
of the incident banished from their presence. Then, too, she felt
that Harold kept the other boys away from her: he regarded her almost
as his personal property. True, no one had asked her for the tennis
tournament, but she was confident that as soon as he was out of the
way, some one would; for, after all, there was one more boy than girl
at the house party.
“I will read the entries that I have so far,” announced Mr. Andrews,
calling the young people to attention. “And those who haven’t already
registered, please ask your girl, and do so without delay.
“Griffith Hunter and Marjorie Wilkinson;
Dick Roberts and Lily Andrews;
Mr. Remington and Miss Phillips;
Roger Harris and Doris Sands;
John Hadley and Frances Wright;
David Conner and Ethel Todd.
“Now, are there any others?”
“Yes, sir,” said Lawrence Field, in the pause that followed. “I wish to
enter with Eloise Trowbridge.”
“And Florence Evans has consented to play with me,” said Raymond
Hancock.
“And Jeanne Trowbridge with me,” announced Max Stanton.
“Well, Ruth,” said Jack, loud enough for everybody to hear, “since your
‘steady’ has gone, will you condescend to play with me?”
“Delighted!” she replied, as if she would rather play with Jack than
with anyone else in the world. In reality she was chagrined to have
been neglected by John Hadley and Lawrence Field.
“Well, we must have two more entries,” said Mr. Andrews. “We have ten,
and we need twelve, you know.”
“I hardly know the game,” said Frieda, “but I’ll be glad to enter, as
Bob suggested, if you want me to.”
“Then I’ll enter, too,” agreed Alice, “since Stanley has been kind
enough to ask me. But I’m only a beginner.”
“And when does the canoe meet come off?” asked Marjorie.
“Saturday morning!” replied Mrs. Andrews; “and the tennis finals Friday
afternoon.”