THE START
“Darry, what do you mean?” Jessie cried breathlessly. “Do you know this
girl?” Darry regarded her strangely for a moment, then replied with a
forced gayety that did not deceive Jessie for a moment:
“How can I tell? You must admit your description has been meager. There
are millions of girls in the United States with blue eyes and black
eyelashes, I suppose.”
“There are more in Ireland,” murmured Amy.
From that time on, try as Jessie might to break his silence, Darry
remained absolutely dumb on the subject of the girl who had given Amy
the counterfeit bill. Jessie knew instinctively that this very silence
meant that he knew—or suspected—a great deal more than he wished to tell
about this girl, and in exact proportion as his silence lengthened, her
curiosity increased. She was piqued, too, to think that Darry could be
so secretive. He had always seemed so frank and open in all his actions.
He must, she decided unwillingly, think a great deal of this girl to be
so careful to shield her from curiosity—even the kindest and best
intentioned curiosity like hers.
The day after their meeting, Miss Alling kept her promise to the girls
and appeared at the Norwood home promptly at eight o’clock to “listen
in” on the wonders of Jessie’s radio set.
She came, she frankly admitted, in a skeptical mood, for she could not
bring herself to believe that two such young girls could erect with any
degree of success so complicated an apparatus as a radio receiving set.
Miss Alling belonged to the type of person who, while believing she can
do nearly everything herself, has a good-natured contempt for the
accomplishments of most of her sex.
However, the girls proved to her that such a feat was indeed possible,
and, after looking the radio set over, Miss Alling pronounced herself
converted.
During the course of the evening Nell Stanley appeared, bringing with
her Folsom Duckworth, a high school boy all the others knew well.
“I fixed it up at home so that I can go to Forest Lodge with you,” said
Nell.
“If you three girls are going, what’s the matter with having Fol along?”
suggested Burd. “That will make it three and three.”
“Yes, do come with us,” urged Miss Alling cordially. And so, after some
talking, it was arranged. The young folks all liked Fol, even though he
was rather of the quiet sort.
After that the whole party grew merry at the thought of the good times
ahead. As a fine orchestra was now giving dance music over the radio, a
loud speaker was adjusted and soon one couple after another got up to
dance.
Burd’s Aunt Emma, like all athletic women, danced wonderfully well, and
soon the boys were “cutting in” on her dances.
“She is more popular than us—I should say we—young things,” Amy
whispered gleefully in Jessie’s ear. “I will never be afraid of getting
old again, after this.”
“I think she is wonderful,” returned Jessie, in a low tone. “After this
I am prepared to love even her obstinacy!”
Altogether, the party was a huge success and there was not one among
them more sorry than Miss Alling when the lateness of the hour forced it
to break up.
“May I come again?” she asked of Mrs. Norwood, as the latter accompanied
her to the door.
“My dear, I wish you would,” returned Mrs. Norwood, with genuine
cordiality. “I haven’t felt so young for years!”
“And now,” sighed Jessie, after the last one—even Amy—had gone and she
was left alone with her radio set, “to-morrow I shall have to take you
all down, you dear old thing, wires and everything, and pack you up
neatly so that you can go with us up to Forest Lodge. I wonder if you
will like the trip as well as we expect to. Oh, radio, dear, we are
going to have a lovely time!”
Then, almost before they realized it, the morning of departure had come.
The radio set had been dismantled skilfully by Jessie and Amy and was
ready for its forty-odd mile trip up into the mountains.
Besides the radio apparatus, the girls carried very little luggage.
Since they were to make the journey in Miss Alling’s touring car—with
the exception of the three boys, who were to “tag along after them” in
Darry’s roadster—it would be necessary to travel as light as possible.
“Anyway,” Amy had remarked philosophically, “we’ll practically live in
our outing suits during the two weeks and we’ll need very little else in
the way of clothing.”
“Except our bathing suits,” Jessie had laughingly reminded her. “Burd
says that the lodge is right on the shore of Lake Towako, you know, and
there ought to be plenty of chances for fine swimming.”
The morning of departure dawned gloriously bright. Jessie, waiting with
her mother on the porch, heard the roar of an exhaust, and the next
moment saw Darry’s black roadster leave the garage on the Drew place and
back down the drive into the broad, shaded boulevard.
This was about ten o’clock. Mr. Norwood, who was taking a half-holiday,
came out, morning paper in hand, to say good-bye to his daughter.
“Be a good girl and an honor to the Norwood name,” he said, with a
twinkle in his eye, and Jessie flung her arms about his neck and gave
him a bear-hug.
“You know I always am, Daddy Norwood,” she cried gayly. “Good-bye,
Momsey dearest. Write to me, won’t you? I only wish you were coming
too.” She was off down the walk, waving her hand gayly to Darry and Amy,
who were already “honking” for her before the gate.
“Here come Burd and Aunt Emma now,” Amy called out to her, pointing down
the road.
Miss Alling was driving at a merry pace, Burd lounging in the seat
beside her with hands folded conspicuously on his chest. In a moment the
big car drew up beside the little roadster.
“Glad to see you ready, girls,” said Aunt Emma, briskly. “Hop out, Burd,
and you and Darry pile the luggage in the tonneau. I have an old salt’s
nose for a storm, and I scent one brewing in the distance. The sooner we
get started, the better it will be for all of us.”
Spurred on by this injunction, the boys in a short time had everything
ready for the start.
“We’ll have to stop and pick up Fol and Nell,” Jessie reminded them.
“But that won’t take long if they are only ready for us.”
“Let’s hope they’ll be,” returned Darry, adding, as he stepped on the
starter: “Lead on, Miss Alling. We can do no better than follow in your
footsteps.”
Nell and Fol were waiting on the porch of the parsonage, and so they met
no delay there. The weather was ideal for such a trip, and, as Miss
Alling said, barring accidents, there was no reason why they should not
reach Forest Lodge on Lake Towako in time for lunch.
Aunt Emma was an excellent driver, and the handsome car covered mile
after mile of macadam road with a smooth, softly-purring motion that was
tonic to the action-loving girls. Nell sat beside Miss Alling, and Amy
and Jessie occupied the roomy tonneau which seemed not in the least
cluttered by the luggage that had been piled in it.
“Oh, isn’t this air wonderful?” sighed Jessie, happily, after a time.
“And the scenery!” murmured Amy. “Look at that mountain rising straight
ahead of us. Did you ever see anything more glorious?”
“There is a bridge at the foot of this hill,” Aunt Emma threw over her
shoulder. “Wait till you see the view from there.”
For some time they had been traveling straight up into the mountains.
The road had been almost one steady ascent. Now, however, the road
dipped sharply, and the car—Aunt Emma rarely used any brake but the
brake pedal, even on the steepest hills—slid downward with dizzy speed.
“Good gracious, but this is reckless!” Amy gasped.
Just then Jessie suddenly seized her arm in a grip that hurt.
“Amy, look! Look!” she screamed. “Right ahead of us! The bridge is
down!”