DORIS’S DINNER PARTY
A WEEK passed by, and no discoveries were made, no clues found that
might lead to the explanation of Anna’s strange disappearance. The
policemen, who had slept at the tea-house regularly every night, were
resigning their posts in disgust. Even Marjorie began to wonder whether
the mystery would ever be solved.
Aside from the shock to Anna’s nerves, there had been no evil effects
from the unusual episode. The wide publicity given by the newspapers had
produced the same results as an expensive advertising campaign; indeed,
the girls were now making money so fast that Marjorie found herself in a
position to pay back a hundred dollars of the loan to Mr. Andrews. Her
one serious problem was help in the kitchen.
After a great deal of persuasion, Anna had been induced to resume her
office as cook, providing, however, that she be excused from night duty,
that she never be obliged to remain at the house alone, and that the
cellar be kept permanently locked. Marjorie had been only too glad to
comply with these requests, and rejoiced greatly in having her again.
But, even with her return, they were handicapped; they needed more
waitresses.
The boys, true to their word, came to the tea-house every evening as
soon as they had finished supper, and took their posts in the kitchen,
acting in whatever capacity they were needed, and remaining, after the
girls went home, to put the place to rights, and to lock up for the
night. Without their assistance Marjorie felt that the work could not
have gone on; for everyone of the five remaining scouts had to serve
both afternoon and evening, since Florence and Marie Louise had gone on
their vacations.
“We’ve simply got to get a couple of maids,” remarked Marjorie, one
evening when she lay on the bed in her own room, particularly exhausted
from a strenuous day’s work. “We can’t keep this up much longer.”
“No, it’s a terrible strain never to have a single afternoon off,”
agreed Lily. “And that reminds me—what shall we do about that dinner
invitation from Doris?”
“When is it?” asked her companion.
“Next Wednesday. And she wants you and me and Ethel all to go.”
“Of course that’s out of the question!” sighed Marjorie. “Unless we
could engage two waitresses.”
“Is it because of the added expense that you haven’t done it before?”
asked Lily.
“Partly. But you know I did put in an ad early this week; and two or
three applicants showed up, but were scared off because of the ghost
story. In that way our publicity has hurt us.”
“But you really can’t blame them for that.”
“No—I suppose not. But I do wish we could clear up the mystery, and go
ahead on the reputation we’ve made.”
“Yes, I do too,” agreed Lily. Then, gathering up her fancy-work, she
said, “I guess you need to go to sleep, Marj, so I’ll clear out. Oh,
here comes Ethel, anyhow!”
“Hello, girls!” said Marjorie’s room-mate, as she entered through the
open door. “What’s the trouble, Marj?”
“Just tired—that’s all!”
“Well, I’m sorry to say you’ll be more tired next week,” remarked the
other girl, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Because Marie Louise writes that
she can’t come back.”
“Marie Louise isn’t coming back from her vacation?” repeated Marjorie.
“But she’ll have to—it’s Lily’s and Daisy’s turn to go!”
“Exactly—so we’ll be three girls short—four waitresses instead of five.”
“Oh!” gasped Marjorie. “We can’t do it! Unless somebody answers the
advertisement right away.”
“Have you put it in the papers again?” asked Ethel, with her usual
display of practicality.
“No, I haven’t,” admitted her room-mate.
“Then I’ll go phone it now!” announced Ethel, leaving the room
immediately.
“She certainly is a jewel,” remarked Marjorie, after Ethel had gone.
“Marj,” said Lily, slowly, as if she had been considering the offer she
was about to make, “I will give up my vacation if you don’t get any
hired help. That will make up for Marie Louise.”
“Really, Lil?” cried Marjorie, jumping up and throwing her arms about
her chum. “Do you honestly mean it?”
“Yes, of course I do!”
“But you’ll be too tired to go back to college in the fall!”
“Not if we close the tea-house right after Labor Day as we have planned.
I’ll still have two weeks before the term begins.”
Marjorie felt thankful for such staunch friends; and when, the following
day, Daisy also offered to give up her vacation if necessary, and Agnes
Taylor and two of her friends insisted upon substituting as waitresses
so that the girls could go to Doris’s dinner party, she felt elated
indeed. Her one disappointment was her failure to hire any help.
In the course of the three days following Ethel’s insertion of the
advertisement in the papers, half a dozen girls applied for the
positions, but none of them accepted it. As soon as they learned that
the tea-house was the scene of the strange events which had been
recounted in the newspapers, and that it was reported to be haunted,
they all refused to consider Marjorie’s generous offer. If only, the
girl thought, the reporters had not gone so into detail, had not
recalled to the public mind the series of deaths that had occurred there
several years before!
When the time for Doris’s party arrived, however, Marjorie made up her
mind not to allow her anxieties to mar the pleasure of the event for
herself or for the others. She was lucky enough to be able to go away
with a free conscience, and she meant to enjoy her brief holiday to the
fullest extent.
John Hadley drove over for the girls in his Ford a little before six and
found all three of them waiting on the porch. Marjorie’s brother Jack
was in the front seat beside him.
“I wonder who is to be the third man?” observed Marjorie, as she climbed
into the place Jack vacated.
“But do you have to ask?” teased John, with a sly glance at Lily.
“Oh, Dick Roberts, I suppose!” laughed Marjorie. “Well—where is he?”
“He’s coming out from work on the train,” replied John. “I told him
there wouldn’t be room in my poor little Ford.”
The drive to Doris’s house was a short one, although on such an evening
as this, Marjorie would not have been sorry to have it much longer. She
was glad, however, to see Doris again.
The bride was waiting for them in the hammock, her adoring husband
beside her.
“It certainly is lovely to be here again,” said Marjorie, as the girls
followed their hostess up stairs. “We haven’t seen as much of you as we
would like, Doris.”
Doris blushed guiltily.
“I know—I’m positively ashamed of myself. But housekeeping does take a
good deal of time—I only have Ella one day a week, you know, and on
special occasions like this—and then Roger is sort of afraid of that
place for me. I know it’s silly—”
“Oh, I don’t blame him a bit!” Marjorie hastened to reassure her.
“Nobody wants to take chances like that. But you just wait! I resolved
today that we’ve got to solve that mystery!”
“How?” asked Doris, in breathless interest.
“I don’t know. Let’s wait till we get down stairs and talk it over with
the boys. Maybe they can suggest something.”
“All right!” Then, turning to Lily, “That’s the most adorable dress,
Lil! I’ll wager it came straight from Paris!”
“The modiste claimed it did!” laughed Lily, pleased at the other girl’s
admiration. “And since this is our first party in Philadelphia, I felt
as if I had to wear it.”
“I’m awfully glad you did,” replied her hostess, beaming. Doris was
perfectly happy in her new surroundings.
When the girls came down stairs again, they found that Dick Roberts had
arrived, and, before they even had a chance to be seated, dinner was
announced.
The dining-room table, with its candles, its flowers, and its shining
new silver, looked as attractive as the rest of the furnishings, and the
girls could not help exclaiming informally at its beauty. From the very
beginning of the affair, the party promised to be a success. The dinner
was as appetizing as if it had been prepared by a French chef; the
hostess was at her best; and the guests entered heartily into the
general gaiety. They talked of everything under the sun except the
strange occurrences at the tea-house; everyone seemed loath to mention a
subject that even bordered on the unpleasant.
“I’m going to be very informal,” announced Doris, as they finally rose
from the table, “and ask you what you would like to do. Dance—play
bridge—have the radio—?”
“No!” interrupted Marjorie, laughingly. “Those things are all nice, but
let’s just talk! It’s so warm, and your porch looks alluring.”
“All right—fine!” agreed Doris. “At least if that plan suits everybody.”
“Admirably,” said Jack, lighting the cigarette his host had just offered
him.
When they were all comfortably seated on the porch, Roger himself
brought up the subject of the tea-house mystery.
“Any more excitement at the tea-house?” he asked, carelessly.
“Not a bit!” sighed Marjorie. “And the policemen have given us up as
hopeless.”
“I imagine they thought Anna was hysterical, and dreamed it all,” said
Ethel.
“Maybe she did!” laughed Jack.
“By the way,” put in Lily, “I forgot to tell you that our elderly
friend—the man who came on opening day, you remember, Marj—was in
yesterday, and said he had passed by late one night last week and heard
some queer noises. He said he and another man walked around to the
garage, but they couldn’t get in.”
“Rubbish!” exclaimed Ethel, in contempt.
“All I know is,” said Marjorie, “that I wish we could find some
explanation to come out with in the newspapers. The story is so common
all over the city that I can’t induce any maids to take the positions as
waitresses.”
“And we certainly do need them!” sighed Ethel.
“Do you know that I think those policemen weren’t much good after all!”
observed Lily. “Now, if we could induce our old friend to watch for us
some night—”
“I wouldn’t take a chance,” said Marjorie. “For he sort of half believes
the stories—”
“But if there are strange goings-on, as he said—”
“Sis!” interrupted Jack seized by a sudden inspiration. “Let us
fellows—”
“Which fellows?” asked Marjorie, sure of what he was about to suggest.
“Why, all of us—”
“No,” replied Marjorie, “I know what you are going to say—you want to
stay all night at the tea-house. But Roger is a married man, and John is
an only son—”
“Well, then, the rest of us!”
“I might consider that,” replied Marjorie, thoughtfully. “But of course
you would need revolvers.”
“Naturally,” agreed Jack, his face alight with excitement at the
prospect of the adventure. “I’ll call up the other fellows tomorrow
morning.”
“One thing I insist upon, though,” added Marjorie; “if you people get
through the night without any adventures, some of us are going to do it
later on!”
“Oh, no!” protested John, in horror.
“Is it a bargain?” asked Marjorie, appealing to her brother.
“Yes,” agreed Jack, finally. “It wouldn’t be fair not to let you.”
“Oh, Marj, don’t!” pleaded Doris. “Something dreadful might happen.”
But Marjorie only smiled at her fears.
“I know mother wouldn’t want me to miss the fun,” said John; “but of
course I’ll consult her. Still, I think you can count on me, Wilkinson.”
Much as Roger would have enjoyed the adventure, he was too thoughtful of
Doris to suggest going in for it. And so the party of six were arranged
for.