THE ACCUSATION.
As Marjorie dressed for dinner that evening, she had a premonition that
something unpleasant was about to happen. She had not felt comfortable
in this house since her arrival; something about the Crowell boys made
her uneasy in their presence; she could not define her reasons, but she
longed to get away.
“How long do you think that we ought to stay?” she inquired of Ethel, as
she clasped the buckle of her ecru slipper.
“Not a minute longer than we have to, to be polite,” returned her
room-mate. “I don’t care much for Aunt Emeline, and less than nothing
for the nephews.”
“But out of deference to Alice, we must be courteous.”
“Yes, naturally. And—we must wait to receive our motors!”
Marjorie looked up sharply. Was it possible that Ethel too shared her
apprehension?
“You don’t think that there is any danger of our not getting them?” she
asked.
Ethel half closed her eyes and looked thoughtfully into space. To
another girl she would not commit herself, but with Marjorie she felt
safe.
“Well, I haven’t any reason to doubt the old lady,” she said, “and yet
somehow I won’t believe in those automobiles till I see them!”
“But why?” insisted Marjorie. “Don’t you think that she has the money?”
“Oh, yes! But she has two scheming nephews who hate to see her part with
it for anyone but themselves.”
“Still, it’s too late to do anything now. A promise is a promise.”
“I hope so!” sighed Ethel, as she finished her toilette.
The girls left their room and descended to the porch. They found most of
the other guests already assembled—among them Vincent Cryton and Clyde
McDaniel.
“We are glad to see you so soon again,” remarked McDaniel pleasantly as
he shook Marjorie’s hand. “We are in luck.”
Marjorie smiled coldly; she detested the way in which these young men
bobbed up at every possible opportunity.
“And you really made your trip according to all regulations, and have
earned your rewards!” exclaimed Cryton. “Let me congratulate you!”
“You better not congratulate us too soon,” put in Ethel, somewhat
bitterly. “We haven’t received the cars yet.” She glanced slyly at
Marjorie and then at Miss Vaughn, who sat with her lips tightly closed
and with anything but an amiable expression upon her face. Surely she
was right: something was going to happen!
“But we’re going to order them tomorrow!” laughed Daisy, reassuringly.
“And I’ll take you for a ride in mine the first thing, Clyde!”
“Thanks!” murmured the young man, gratefully.
“You’d risk your life to her, then, McDaniel!” teased Vaughn Crowell.
“The girls were all experienced drivers by now,” returned McDaniel,
haughtily. “So I do not feel that I am taking any risk!”
“So long as they don’t have to fix punctures!” put in Milton Crowell,
sarcastically.
“Oh, we can even do that!” Florence asserted proudly. “Just ask Clyde or
Vincent—they know!”
“Indeed we do!” cried both boys eagerly; and again Marjorie noticed that
Miss Vaughn retained her stolid, expressive silence.
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the other two guests
of the dinner party—Jo Wallace and Ned Hitchens—and the gathering was
complete. A moment later the butler announced dinner.
Marjorie found herself sauntering rather listlessly into the
dining-room, with no great anticipation for the little party. A wave of
homesickness spread over her as she took her seat between Clyde McDaniel
and Jo Wallace; she wished so much that John Hadley or Dick Roberts, or
her brother were beside her, instead. For once in her life she felt
absolutely bored; she wondered what in the world she would find to talk
about to either of the young men.
To her surprise, however, she found that it would not be necessary to
make much conversation, for McDaniel had eyes for no one but Daisy, who
sat on his left, and Wallace became at once deeply engrossed in his
hostess. So Marjorie had plenty of time to look about her, and to think
things out. During the progress of the whole six-course dinner, which
was as elaborate as any she had ever attended, she knew that she did not
experience a really enjoyable moment.
Yet when she analyzed her discontent, she could not trace it to any
happening in the past or present; the girls had, it was true,
encountered unusual obstacles during their trip; but they had surmounted
them all. Moreover, everything here was absolutely perfect; she felt
that she ought to be enjoying the ease and the luxury of it all to the
fullest extent. But still she was not happy.
As she shifted her gaze about the softly lighted table from one smiling
group to another, she realized suddenly that the merriment was forced
rather than spontaneous; that with the exception of Daisy and Florence,
who were thoroughly enjoying McDaniel’s and Cryton’s society, the guests
were not congenial. The other four young men were not of the type which
had always appealed to the scouts, and no one was quite at ease.
“It’s all due to those Crowell boys,” she concluded, as the dessert was
brought on. “We don’t like them, or their friends, or their influence
over Miss Vaughn. If anything does go wrong, it’ll be their fault!”
It had always been the hostess’s habit to comply with the English custom
of having the ladies withdraw from the dining-room first, leaving the
young men alone to finish their cigarettes. Accordingly she arose,
nodding to the girls to accompany her; but from the very manner in which
her request was given, Marjorie sensed that something portentous was
about to transpire.
Instead of leading her guests to the porch or the reception-room where
they had naturally expected the party to be continued, she conducted
them off to a wing of the house and opened the door into a charming
little study that was evidently all her own. More than one of the girls
were impressed with the antiques, the tapestries, the paintings, and yet
for some unknown reason no one ventured to voice her admiration. Miss
Vaughn seated herself at the carved chair at the desk, and the scouts
dropped quietly into seats about the room.
“Girls,” she began slowly, allowing her glance to travel from one to
another in turn, “I have something to tell you that pains me very much.
You know that when I suggested this trip, I gave you certain conditions
which I wanted you to fulfill, and I put you on your honor in reporting
about them. I had to take your word for your statements, for I did not
have any thought of finding out for myself. You are Girl Scouts, your
first law is trustworthiness; that was enough for me.
“Yet, entirely by accident, I learned, since you have been here, that my
trust was misplaced, that two of your number have lied to me!”
She paused for a moment, and caught the varied expressions on the girls’
faces—registering anger, incredulity, surprise, resentment, and even
distress. But she did not allow anyone to speak.
“Now I want to hasten to assure you that I am not blaming the girls to
whom this does not apply; for, as far as I can learn, it was done
without the knowledge of the rest of the party. And of course both the
captain and the lieutenant of the troop are blameless; the deceit was
kept successfully from them.”
“But what in the world—?” began Alice impetuously; but she was waved to
silence by a gesture from her aunt.
“One moment, Alice; I’m not finished. I want to repeat that I heard all
this inadvertently, from two people who had no interest in you one way
or the other, and who knew nothing of the conditions I had made
regarding the receiving of help from men along the road. These tourists
actually saw two young men—whom I now suppose to be Mr. McDaniel and Mr.
Cryton—fixing the tires of the car that was stolen!”
“That’s a lie!” cried Florence, jumping from her chair, her eyes blazing
with the anger which she could no longer control. Daisy, on the other
hand, began to weep.
Marjorie and Ethel looked at each other in blank amazement wondering,
for an instant, whether the accusation could possibly be true. Yet they
wavered only a moment in doubt; one glance at the girls’ righteously
angry expressions assured them of their innocence.
“But didn’t these young men offer to fix your tires?” persisted Miss
Vaughn, shrewdly.
“Yes, of course they did; but we wouldn’t let them,” answered Florence.
“I’ll admit we did hesitate for a second—Dais and I were pretty tired,
you see—”
“Exactly!” interrupted Miss Vaughn triumphantly. “You see you have given
yourselves away, Miss Evans! Of course Mr. Cryton and Mr. McDaniel would
never have told—they were too chivalrous for that—but since other people
saw you, it is fortunate that the thing came to my ears, before it was
too late, and dishonesty was rewarded. Now I am perfectly willing to
live up to my part in the bargain—”
“May I ask,” interrupted Mrs. Remington, “who your informers are? Are
you sure that they are to be trusted?”
“My informers are Mr. Wallace and Mr. Hitchens, and they are to be
trusted because they are absolutely disinterested parties.”
“And would you take their word ahead of that of Girl Scouts?” flashed
Ethel.
“In this circumstance I would. Now, as I said before, I have no
intention of punishing the innocent girls with the guilty ones. Tomorrow
the rest of you may come down to the sales rooms and order your
machines.”
There was silence for a moment while the girls tried to control their
anger, and to remember that their accuser was not only their hostess,
but an aged lady as well. Marjorie, who knew that the sympathy of the
whole group was with the two unfortunate girls, decided to take it upon
herself to speak for the rest.
“Miss Vaughn,” she said with dignity, “it will be impossible for any of
us to accept your gifts so long as you feel that you cannot take the
word of two of our members. How do you know that we are not all lying?”
“That’s perfect nonsense!” cried the old lady. “Still, Miss Marjorie, I
admire you for your loyalty to your troop!”
She arose with a finality that forbade further discussion, and invited
the girls into the reception-room, whence strains of dance music could
be heard.
Daisy, who was still silently weeping over the disgrace of such an
accusation, sought Marjorie’s hand in sympathy.
“I’m going to take the first train home tomorrow morning,” she sobbed.
“Even if I have to go alone! I can’t stand it a minute longer than
necessary—”
“No!” thundered Marjorie, pressing her hand reassuringly. “Please don’t,
Daisy!”
“But why?”
“Because I mean to stay here till I clear you and Florence of suspicion!
And I shall probably need you both to be on hand to do it!”
“How can you?”
“I don’t know; but I am positive that you are both innocent, and
therefore I am sure I can succeed!”
“Bravo!” exclaimed a voice behind them, and the girls turned about to
see a look of real admiration on Miss Vaughn’s face. “I sincerely hope
you do—I want to be convinced!”
“You will be!” cried Marjorie, triumphantly. “We’ll show you that a Girl
Scout’s honor is to be trusted!”