CHAPTER XXIII
JUST DESERTS
"Who," demanded Betty, "is Marshall Morgan?"
"He's a pest," said Tommy, with characteristic frankness. "He has onemission in life, and that is to plague those unfortunates who have to beunder the same roof with him. He never does anything on a large scale,but then a mosquito can drive you crazy, you know."
"Dear me, he ought to know Ada," rejoined Bobby. "Perhaps he does. She isa pestess, if there is such a word."
"There isn't," Betty assured her. "Anyway, this won't get our lunch back.What are you going to do, Bob?"
"A little Indian work," was Bob's reply. "We'll send out scouts to locatethe thieves and then we'll surround them and let the consequences fall."
"I'll be a consequence," declared Bobby vindictively. "I'll fall on Adawith such force she'll think an avalanche has struck her."
Bob sent some of the boys to trace the steps, and while they were goneoutlined his plans to the others. Once they knew where the marauderswere, they were to spread out fan-shape and swoop down upon the enemy.
"I figure they'll get a safe distance away and then stop to eat thelunch," said Bob. "It is hardly likely that they will take the stuff backto school with them."
"But Ada went to Edentown," protested Libbie. "We saw her in the bus,didn't we, girls? And Ruth, too."
"They could easily come back in the same bus," said Betty. "Indeed, I'mwilling to wager that is just what they did. Miss Prettyman as achaperone probably killed any desire Ada had to go shopping."
The scouts came back after fifteen or twenty minutes to report that theyhad discovered the invaders camped under a large oak tree and preparingto open the boxes.
"They were laughing and saying how they'd put one over on you," saidGilbert Lane.
"Well, they won't laugh long," retorted Bob grimly. "How many are there?"
"Marshall Morgan, Jim Cronk, the Royce boys, all three of 'em, HilbertMitchell and George Timmins," named Gilbert, using his fingers as anadding machine. "Then there are nine girls."
"Has one of them a brown velvet hat with a pink rose at the front andbrown gaiters and mink furs and a perfectly lovely velvet handbag?" askedBetty. "And did you see a girl with black pumps and white silk stockingsand a blue tricotine dress embroidered with crystal beads?"
The boys looked bewildered.
"Don't believe we did," admitted Gilbert regretfully. "But one of 'emcalled a skinny girl 'Ada' and somebody is named 'Gladys.'"
"Never mind the clothes," Bobby told him gratefully. "We knew those twowere mixed up in this."
They started cautiously, mindful of Bob's instructions not to make anoise, and succeeded, after ten or fifteen minutes creeping, in gettingwithin hearing distance of the despoilers.
"You girls will have to tend to your friends," grinned Bob. "You can'texpect us to discipline them. But we'll give the boys something toremember!"
The party spread out, and at his signal whistle they sprang forward,shouting like wild Indians. Straight for the oak tree they charged andclosed in on the group beneath it. Those seated there rose to their feetin genuine alarm.
"Rush 'em!" shouted Bob.
Pushing and scrambling, those in the attacking party began to force theothers down the narrow path. The boys were struggling desperately andthe girls were resisting as best they could and some were crying.
"Let us out!" wept Ada. "Ow! You're stepping on me! Let us out!"
She kicked blindly, and fought with her hands. The first person shegrasped was Ruth, who was nearly choked before she could jerk her furcollar free.
"I will get out!" panted Ada. "Push, girls!"
The circle opened for them, and following Ada they dashed throughstraight into a tangle of blackberry bushes. Half mad with rage and blindfrom excitement they ploughed their way through, fighting the bushes asthough they were flesh and blood arms held out to stop them. When theywere clear of the thicket their clothes were in tatters and their facesand hands scratched and bleeding cruelly.
There was nothing for them to do but to go back to the school and try toinvent a plausible story for their condition. All the cold cream in thehandsome glass jars on Ada's dressing table could not heal her smartingface and thoughts that night.
Bob and his friends continued on their resolute way, pushing the lucklesscadets before them. Once out of the woods, they seized them by the jacketcollars and rushed them down to the lake and into the icy waters. Theygenerously allowed them to come out after a few minutes immersion, andthe sorry, dripping crew began the long run that would bring them to dryclothes and, it is to be hoped, mended ways.
"Now the potatoes are done," Bob reported, after examining the ovenhollowed out and lined with stones. "Why not combine forces and eat?"
Every one was famished, and they found plenty of good things left in theboxes. The uninvited guests could not have had those packages open longbefore they were overtaken.
After a hearty picnic meal the boys helped the girls gather up theirbranches and walked with them to the point where their boats were tied.They had rowed over because of the attraction of the woods--Salsettebeing located on the flat side of the lake--and now they must go back forthe afternoon drill that was never omitted even for such an importantoccasion as the colonel's birthday.
Ada and her chums did not come down to dinner that night, and so did nothelp with the decorating of the hall. That was pronounced an unqualifiedsuccess, as was the performance of "The Violet Patchwork" the followingnight and the nut cake and the chocolate and the pistache ice-cream thatwas served at the close.
Both audience and players were treated to two surprises in the course ofthe evening. Bobby was responsible for one and, much to the astonishmentof the school, Ada Nansen and Constance Howard for the other.
True to her promise, the dauntless Bobby had accepted the humble role ofstage hand rather than have no part in the play, and she trundled scenerywith right good will and acted as Miss Anderson's right hand in a mood ofunfailing good humor. There was not an atom of envy in Bobby's character,and she thought Betty the most wonderful actress she had ever seen.
"You look lovely in that dress," she said, as Betty stood awaiting hercue at the opening of the second act.
Betty smiled, took her cue and walked on the stage.
A ripple of laughter that grew to hilarity greeted her after the firstpuzzled moment.
"Oh, oh!" cried Madame hysterically, in the wings. "See, that Bobby! Someone call her! She is walking with the tree!"
The rather primitive arrangements of the background provided for the playcalled for a girl to stand behind each tree in the formal garden scene assupport. In her admiration of Betty, Bobby had unconsciously edged afterher to keep her in sight, and the startled audience saw the heroine beingpersistently pursued by a pretty boxwood tree. Bobby was recalled toherself, the tree became rooted in its place, and "The Violet Patchwork"proceeded smoothly.
Between the third and fourth acts, the lights went out at a signal andto the general surprise--for the players had known nothing of what wasto come--a velvety voice rolled out in the darkness singing the wordsof "A Maid in a Garden Green," a song a great singer had made popularthat season.
"It's Ada," whispered the school with a rustle of delight. "No one elsecan sing like that."
They encored her heartily, and she responded. Then the lights flared upand died down again for the last act.
"Constance got her to do it," whispered Betty to Bobby. "I heard MissAnderson telling Miss Sharpe. Ada's face is so scratched she couldn't, orrather wouldn't, show herself, and Constance said why not sing in thedark the way they do at the movies? That tickled Ada--who'd like to be amovie actress, Connie says--and she said she would."
"Constance Howard has a way with her," remarked Bobby sagely. "Any onethat can persuade Ada Nansen to do anything nice is qualified to take adiplomatic post in Thibet."
Soon after the play the weather turned colder and skating and coastingbecame popular topics of
conversation. There was not much ice-skating,as a rule, in that section of the country, but snow was to be expected,and more than one girl had secret aspirations to go from the top of thehill back of the school as far as good fortune would take her.
"Coasting?" Ada Nansen had sniffed when the subject was mentioned to her."Why, that's for children! Girls of our ages don't go coasting. Now athome, my brother has an ice-boat--that's real sport."
"Well, Ada, I suppose you think I'm old enough to be your grandmother,"said Miss Anderson, laughing. "I wonder what you'll say when I tell youthat I still enjoy a good coast? If you girls who think you are too oldto play in the snow would only get outdoors more you wouldn't complain ofso many headaches."
But Ada refused to be mollified, and she remained indifferent to theshrieks of delight that greeted the first powdering of snow. Thanksgivingmorning saw the first flakes.
The holiday was happily celebrated at Shadyside, very few of the girlsgoing home. Mrs. Eustice preferred to add the time to the Christmasvacation, and the girls had found that this plan added to theirenjoyment. Aunt Nancy and her assistants fairly outdid themselves on thedinner, and that alone would have made the day memorable for those withgood appetites, and where is the school girl who does not like to eat?
The Dramatic Club gave another play to which the Salsette boys wereinvited as a special treat, and a little dance followed the play.
"You're a great little actress, Betty," Bob told her when he came toclaim the first dance. "I'm almost willing to let you steer the newbobsled the first time it snows."
The bobsled, built by Bob and his chums, was an object of admiration tohalf of Salsette Academy. It was large and roomy and promised plenty ofspeed. The boys, of course, were wild to try it, and Betty and Bobby, whohad been promised one of the first rides, joined them in earnestlywishing for snow. Betty had a sled of her own, too, a graceful, lightaffair her uncle had sent her.
The desired snow did not come for several days. Instead the weather grewstill and cold and the girls were glad to stay indoors and work on theirlessons or on things they were making for Christmas gifts.
"You may not have much money to spend, Norma," remarked Bobby oneafternoon, "but then you don't need it. Just look at the things you cando with a crochet hook and a knitting needle."
Norma, bent over a pretty lace pattern, flushed a little.
"I'd like to be able to give grandma the things she needs far more than alace collar," she said quietly.
Betty knew that Mrs. Macklin was still in the Philadelphia hospital.Every letter from Glenside now meant "a spell of the blues" for Norma,who was beginning to have dark circles under her eyes. She looked asthough she might lie awake at night and plan.
When the girls put away their books and their sewing to go down todinner, a few uncertain feathery flakes were softly sifting down and latethat night it began to snow in earnest, promising perfect coasting.