THE JUNIOR PICNIC
Sometimes a mystery remains one for weeks and months or is never solved,
and many a girl at school has had to endure an unjust suspicion; but it
was odd how bits of information came to the girls in the next few days,
“links in the chain of evidence”, as Betty said. “I shall not say one
word to Louise about the packet, or ask if she got it! If it _was_
Louise, ‘Louise of Prussia’ and she was at the party, she’ll know it was
I who brought it. If somebody else played the trick on me, she’ll have
no means of knowing who it was, for her brother could only tell that it
was a girl dressed up as a ghost, and there were about twenty of us. So
let her betray herself!” and Betty struck an attitude, one hand waving
to high heaven, the other upon her heart.
This was the morning after the ghost party, and while Betty was thus
delivering herself to Cathalina, the other girls having scattered,
Molly, the colored maid, came in to clean the room. “Does you-all care
foh these masks?” she asked, as she held up one from the waste basket
which she was about to empty. “Ef yo’ doesn’t, I’ll tek it along to
Snowla; she’ll like to play with it.”
“Why, certainly, Molly,” returned Cathalina, “I threw it there.”
“Well, ah didn’t know. Ah picked one up off’n the flo’ in Miss Holley’s
room this mawnin’ an’ she jus’ nachelly snatched it out’n ma han’, an’
tol’ me nevah to put anything in the waste basket without askin’.”
Betty and Cathalina exchanged glances as they left the room to Molly’s
care. And as they went down stairs they fell in with Victoria, who
asked, “What were you girls saying last night to make Louise Holley so
mad at you? I met her coming in the side door with a red face and
saying, ‘Smarties! I’ll get even with them!’ I said, ‘What’s the matter,
Louise?’ and she said, ‘O, nothing,—that Betty!’”
“She had not been with us, and Betty did not say anything that I know
of.”
“I saw you all together afterwards and I thought maybe she had been with
you.” Victoria went off in another direction as they all reached the
foot of the steps outside.
“There! She _was_ listening and thought you said that about her instead
of Hilary.”
“Seems to me Isabel said something, too. Why I wasn’t even there till
afterwards! But the girls told me what had been said and about the
sneeze they heard.”
“Probably she made up her mind to get into the party someway, and when
she saw you there after the girls had gone took that chance to fool
you.”
“O, there is Miss West!” interrupted Betty. “Let’s ask her to take a row
with us.”
In a few minutes the three were on the river together, Patricia West
glad of the recreation with two such exceptionally nice girls. Moved by
some impulse, Betty started in to recount her experience, with all the
attendant circumstances. “Of course Patty wouldn’t tell,” the girls
always thought, and in receiving their confidences Miss West often had
some difficult questions of ethics and loyalty to decide. “O, Betty!”
she exclaimed when Betty came to the scene under the oak tree.
“Don’t worry, Miss West,—never again!”
“For any of us,” added Cathalina. “What do _you_ think, Miss West?”
After a few questions, Miss West considered a moment, then said:
“It was her brother, without doubt, for he has been at the Hall. I can
see no reason except his own convenience for the late meeting. However,
some people just love to be mysterious and do things in an underhand
way. It showed a lack of consideration for his sister. I think what he
brought her was a package of mail and papers that probably just got
through from Germany. He is at the military school. Louise brought in
some German papers to Miss Randolph this morning while I happened to be
with her, and wanted us to sympathize with their standpoint about the
war. Their real name is Von Holle, though in this country they have
usually gone by the name of Holle. I know I can trust you girls not to
talk about it,—but Miss Randolph has been quite puzzled, wondering what
she ought to do. We are supposed to be neutral, of course, but every
human being has passed judgment on the recent deeds of Germany, and with
all the talk among the girls Miss Randolph feared that for one thing
Louise would be very unhappy here. And she was in quite a state at
first. Her father was a Prussian officer and was killed in the first
advance through Belgium. He had sent his family to America early in the
summer. They used to live here and the children were born here. Their
English is perfect, but the mother says ‘ve’ for ‘we,’ and has a
decidedly foreign accent. She is a public singer, not especially noted.
Miss Randolph had to decide so suddenly and they were so insistent,
wanting a safe place for Louise while the family was so unsettled that
it was finally arranged. I believe if I were you that I would just pass
it over and not think about it. But do not follow any crazy plans for
breaking rules again. The rules are not made for fun, you know, only to
protect you girls.”
“I know now,” said Cathalina, suddenly, “what that resemblance is. Three
years ago when we were in Berlin, there was quite a scene one day,—an
officer and some men. Father hurried us away, but I can see yet the
officer’s angry face as he lifted his sword and struck one of the men.
Do you suppose it could have been her father?”
“O, you couldn’t assume that, Cathalina. There are many chance
resemblances.”
Several days afterward, Hilary was kneeling on the floor in her sanctum
sanctorum. With her arms on the windowsill, she was looking absently
toward the lake and the fleecy white clouds above it, when Cathalina,
Betty, Diane, Eloise and Pauline came noisily in.
“Back view of one of Raphael’s cherubs!” said Diane in her cheerful
voice. “What’s the matter, Hilary? Can this be that industrious child
who is always up and doing, as Shakespeare says.”
“‘Shakespeare’!”
“Well, somebody,—what’s the difference?”
“You’ll get a high mark in literature, Di, if that’s your idea.” Hilary
laughed as she hopped up briskly. “But to answer your question, I’m
worried. Any of you girls know what’s the matter with Lilian?”
“No, not I; why?” queried Eloise, while the others shook their heads to
indicate their ignorance.
“What do you mean, Hilary; is Lilian sick, or mad, or anything?”
“Anything, probably.”
“She isn’t sick,” said Betty.
“I’m afraid she’s mad.”
“At you? or more of us? or what?”
Hilary smiled at the questions. “O, at me, I guess; but I can’t imagine
what is the matter. She didn’t wait for me after English, as she usually
does, gave me a cool nod this morning when I met her in the hall after
breakfast, and pretended not to see me a little while ago when she was
going down to the river with a bunch of girls. I had spoken yesterday of
not having lessons this afternoon and we had planned to study together
and then take a walk; so I feel sure something is wrong, or else she’s
just sick of going around with me.” Hilary looked forlorn.
“Cheer up, Hilary,” said Diane. “Sure you didn’t imagine it?”
“O, Hilary isn’t a bit touchy, you know, Di,”—this from Hilary’s
roommate, naturally an authority on that.
“I know, Cathalina. You ask Lil, Betty.”
“O, please don’t!” begged Hilary. “I count on you girls not to say
anything. I don’t know myself whether to go and see Lilian or not; I’m
not keen on being snubbed, you know. But if I’ve really done anything,
I’ll apologize in a minute. I can’t understand.”
“Wait a day or so,” counseled Eloise, “maybe she’ll come around all
right and tell you herself.”
But Lilian did not come near or give Hilary a chance to speak to her.
Hilary felt much hurt, but like the conscientious little girl she was,
thought she must be partly to blame. After the English class it was now
Myrtle Wiseman who waited for Hilary. She was a gentle, pleasant-voiced
girl, full of flattery for Hilary’s ability and with a certain
attractiveness of her own. Cathalina could not bear her, but was too
much of a lady to show it when Myrtle would come to their suite for help
on a theme or to borrow something from Hilary. Hilary liked her well
enough, except for having seen her cheat in examination, but for that
reason preferred not to be intimate with her. However, having been
brought up to be helpful to everybody, she was kind and sunny with
Myrtle. It never occurred that Lilian might be at all jealous, because
Lilian was as generous-hearted as Hilary herself. Hilary had never
mentioned the cheating to Lilian, for she had some hesitation about
prejudicing one girl against another.
“I shan’t enjoy the Junior picnic a bit,” remarked Hilary one day to
Cathalina, “with Lil acting this way.”
“If you hate to go to her room to see her, why don’t you write her a
note?” suggested sensible Cathalina, “and get the thing explained!”
“She probably wouldn’t answer it, and anyway, Cathalina, I haven’t done
a thing! I suppose I’m getting mad, too, but I don’t like to be treated
that way without a hint why. If Lilian doesn’t want to have anything to
do with me she needn’t!”
Cathalina was surprised, for Hilary was such a sensible, kind girl under
ordinary circumstances, but she did not know what a sore heart Lilian’s
defection had given Hilary, who did not understand in the least.
“Never mind, Hilary; the rest of us all love you to pieces. Don’t pay
any attention to it,—though at this rate you’ll never fix it up! We’re
going to have a beach party tonight right after dinner, and we shall see
if Lilian will come. We must talk over the plans for the picnic tonight.
Did you know that you are on the refreshment committee?”
“No; going in the launch?”
“Yes. O, you weren’t at the meeting, were you? We are going to the
Island, going to cook fish or weenies or something,—we ought to make out
the menu tonight. Diane said it would be more fun to have the whole
crowd together to talk it over. We are just going a little way up the
beach tonight, going to have fudge and toast marshmallow, wear our
bathing suits and big cloaks, have our committee meeting first, swim
next, and then have the candy.”
“I wish that old study bell did not ring so early!”
“By the way,” Cathalina pointed to the table, “help yourself. Wasn’t it
nice of Phil to send candy just to his sister? He said he was sending
the box to his next best girl. He calls Mother his ‘best girl.’”
“Aren’t they spuzzy! Thank you. It will spoil our ‘appertites’ for plain
fudge, though. Why, doesn’t Philip pay any attention to girls? He has
such graceful manners with them that you’d think he’d had experience.”
“That is good, Hilary; I’ll have to tell Phil that.”
“Mercy, no! I know how boys are,—and he’d never speak to me again,
perhaps.”
“Yes, he would, but I won’t repeat it. Yes, Phil is not nearly as old as
he seems, but he has had several half-way sweethearts, from Ann Maria to
a nice girl that was visiting one of our friends not so very long ago.
But Phil is too interested in boy affairs to be at all silly about
girls. Boys have such good times, you know. He wrote all of one page!”
Cathalina held out the manly scrawl for inspection. “Campbell wants to
be remembered to you, Phil says, and he also sends his regards. Campbell
says you are the ‘foxiest girl he knows.’”
“I’m much obliged to Campbell. I suppose, at least, that he intends that
as a compliment. He was real nice to me, and is such a ‘good looker,’ as
Gordon says.”
“Campbell is one of my nicest cousins.”
Final plans for the picnic were made at the beach party. Lilian did not
come down until late, but was as jolly as ever, avoiding any special
conversation with Hilary. Everybody was happy at the prospect of the
fun. “We want it to be a success,” said Eloise, anxiously. She was
chairman of the general committee.
“O, it can’t help it,”—this in Helen’s pretty voice. “Just to get out in
the Greycliff would be enough.”
The day of the picnic was warm and sunny, the lake all sparkles. Against
the big rock at the foot of the cliff the spray dashed and foamed, but
there was only the fresh morning breeze, with no signs of storm. The
gulls were as busy as ever. A king-fisher rattled his noisy way at the
mouth of the river and a white-winged tern dived near as the little
Greycliff, comfortably full, chugged its way through the waves and left
behind its churning wake.
Patricia West, the favorite young English teacher, was chaperone. Miss
Randolph had suggested Dr. Carver, since that lady had not yet received
the compliment of being asked to chaperone any of the picnics or
parties. The committee did not utter a word, but glanced at each other
in such dismay that Miss Randolph threw back her head and laughingly
asked, “Well, whom _do_ you want?”
“Miss West!” said they all in concert.
And Miss West it was. Cathalina had remained to whisper, “I’m sorry if
you really wanted Dr. Carver to go. She would enjoy it.”
“No, child; if the girls dislike her, as I fear they do, she would have
a hard time on this trip and it would spoil their fun.”
At the Island, half an hour’s ride away, the girls and their chaperone
were unloaded, with all the picnic baskets and other impedimenta. The
Greycliff then departed to go back to Greycliff dock, whence it was to
take out several picnic parties that day to different points on the lake
shore.
“Will Mickey go after the crowds in the same order tonight?” Hilary
asked Miss West.
“Not quite. The Freshmen are to get in before dinner, the Sophomores
later, and we may go home by moonlight.”
“How fine! I wonder how it happened that there are so many picnic
parties today.”
“There are so few Saturdays left, you know. The Greycliff will be busy
every Saturday that offers fine weather.”
All the girls helped carry the lunch up the shore to a shady green spot
on the bluffs, where some beautiful trees stretched protecting branches
and there was a fine view of the mainland shore. Perry, a stout young
fellow who was one of Mickey’s chief assistants and who was to remain
with the girls, toiled up the ascent with the heavier loads.
“Out on that rock,” said Juliet, pointing, “is where we build our fires,
Cathalina. Let’s gather our wood and stuff now and have it all ready. No
green wood, girls!” she called as they scattered to find material for
the fire. A little oven of stones had been built by former picnic
parties and needed only a little repairing. Perry was fixing some
fishing tackle and Diane called to him as they all started away, “If you
hear us scream, come a-running to rescue us!” And grinning Perry
promised that he would. “There will probably be nothing more dangerous
that a garter snake,” laughed Juliet.
The Island, as it was called, had only one stretch of beach, where the
party had landed and where bathing or swimming was safe. About the rest
of its circumference, steep cliffs rose from the water and were
especially high where the island was separated from the mainland by a
narrow channel, through which the water rushed and boiled as the waves
came in or retreated. There was one pretty descent where steps had been
cut in the rock and led down to a broad platform and a tiny cave, called
by the girls from Kentucky “Mammoth Cave,” because “it wasn’t.”
Some of the girls had brought field glasses and found quiet spots where
they could watch the birds, or strolled by a little trail through the
trees and bushes in the center of the island. Others hunted wild flowers
and several sketched a little, sketches intended more for their diaries
and “stunt books” than for artistic purposes. Two or three lazily
stretched out on blankets high upon the bluff, to read or watch the sky
and water.
“I am so glad that we were the earliest party to come out,” said
Cathalina to Betty Barnes. “Isn’t it funny that I don’t want to sketch
these days? I just want to tramp around and see things. Diane said that
there are some eggs on those rocks over there. Let’s go and see. I
wonder if the gulls and terns nest here.”
“They say so,” answered Betty. “Come on, Hilary, have you seen the place
where the gulls nest?”
“No.” Hilary came running, her field glass in hand, the leather case
bobbing about her shoulders. Myrtle came hurrying to catch up with
Hilary. Through bushy tangles and over rocks the girls climbed to where
several others, Lilian among them, were trying to see the eggs, placed
with wisdom in the most inaccessible spot. Hilary braced herself behind
a little tree and was focusing her glass when her foot slipped and she
slid out over the cliff, losing her hold on the tree, but clutching at
the roots and bushes.
“Run, Juliet,—call Perry!” screamed Lilian, running toward Hilary. But
sturdy Pauline was first, and knelt, throwing one arm around the young
tree and giving her other hand to the white-faced Hilary. “Hold on to
me, Lil, and I’ll keep Hilary up!” Lilian, as white as Hilary, held
Pauline, while the little tree creaked and swayed.
Myrtle had thrown herself face down on the ground and was sobbing.
“Hush this minute, Myrtle!” said Cathalina. “You’ll scare Hilary. We’re
going to get you up all right, Hilary!” Delicate little Cathalina
stretched herself full length by Pauline and reached both hands to
Hilary’s.
“I’ll only pull you over,” whispered Hilary, her right hand grasped by
the determined Pauline, and her left seeking a precarious hold on the
frail supports that were now almost torn away.
“No, you won’t. Come, hold my feet, girls, and don’t let go and I’ll
take Hilary’s other hand,—sit on me or anything!”
The other girls who had been almost paralyzed by the sudden accident,
followed Cathalina’s directions and assured Hilary that when Cathalina
and Pauline were tired they would take their places. There was no
foothold for Hilary, for the cliff sloped back under its edge, and the
girls were not quite strong enough to draw Hilary’s weight up nor dared
to risk any experiments. But just as they thought their arms would leave
their sockets and their heads were swimming with the effort, Perry came
running and crashing through the bushes, bringing a life preserver, a
rope and his own strong arms. In a jiffy Hilary was up and over the edge
and in the arms of the girls, who laughed and cried together.
“I say, Miss Hilary, you’re no featherweight! When I heard that
screamin’, I grabbed the life preserver and broke into a run, plumb sure
one of y’ was drowndin’!”
“Makes me think of between halves at a ball game,” cried Juliet who was
rubbing Pauline’s arm. Hilary lay on the grass as far as possible from
the edge of the cliff and rested with her head in Lilian’s lap. No
explanations were necessary. Friendship was renewed without them. “I’m
not strained as much as you’d think, girls,” said Hilary. “First, you
see, I had hold of the tree, then as I slipped from that I held to the
little things and got my elbows on the edge. But if Pauline had not
gotten me just when she did,—my, I could hear that boiling surf down
there and I tried not to imagine the rocks!” Cathalina declared that her
arms were all right, and presently Hilary jumped up as lively as ever.
“You girls and Perry saved me, so it has not spoiled our day. Come on;
I’m hungry. I’m sorry I scared you all so—O, my glass!” Hilary looked at
the girls in dismay. Cathalina came up and patted Hilary’s cheek. “Don’t
feel bad, Hilary, you can have mine! I heard the glass go smash down
there—but let’s be glad it wasn’t you!” For a minute Hilary hesitated.
That field glass was such a treasure, Then Hilary was herself again. “No
use, spilled milk; Gordon would tell me to ‘be a sport’; I’ll rent a
glass till the bird study is over.”
Only Perry, who followed the girls with sober face, realized fully what
might have happened to turn the happy day into tragedy.
A fire had been started on the bluff; something savory was simmering in
pans and there was much spreading of sandwiches and opening of pickle
and olive jars. Cathalina had secured from an enterprising lady of
Greycliff Heights, home-made rolls, jelly and jam, doughnuts and potato
chips. Various girls had brought their own contributions as well.
“Wouldn’t our menu be a scream if it were printed?” said one. As usual
there was more than enough, though it had been necessary to provide for
two meals. “And we’ll be hungry, you know, girls,” had been said so much
that it became a joke.
After the first meal there were games, and wading or swimming. The
athletic Juliet and Pauline were learning to crochet and looked quite
domestic as they bent above their work. Pauline learned a new stitch,
but found that her arm was too lame to accomplish much. Swimming, alas,
was out of the question for either her, Hilary or Cathalina. Even the
intellectual Miss West was tatting, while everybody had raptures over
Eloise’s beautiful embroidery. Hilary and Lilian wandered off to a shady
spot not far from the beach, where the water lapped quietly and cunning
little sandpipers ran along the moist sands. Later, after an earnest and
evidently satisfactory conversation, they again joined the main company,
most of whom were tired of roaming about.
As the moon came up, the breeze died away to a soft breath from the
South and the lake was unusually calm. Sitting in groups, the girls told
stories or chatted until the launch arrived. By moonlight in the
Greycliff the Greycliff songs or latest ragtimes were flung to the
evening mists, till the Junior picnic was over and the big hall once
more received its children.
“How’s your arm, Polly?” asked Hilary, as in kimono and slippers she
appeared in Pauline’s door, while the penetrating odor of liniment made
everybody on the floor think of athletics.
“Fine,” replied Pauline; “I’ll be asleep before you get to your room.”
“Goodnight, then,” and Hilary came over to give Pauline a good hug.
“It’s terribly early, but I believe I could sleep if the whole hall were
prancing by!” With this, Hilary scampered home to find Cathalina already
asleep and to slip into her own comfortable nest after sending up the
grateful prayer which had been in her heart since morning.