THE GIRLS OF HILLCREST FARM
Or
The Secret of the Rocks
by
AMY BELL MARLOWE
Author ofThe Oldest of Four, A Little Miss Nobody,The Girl from Sunset Ranch, Etc.
LUCAS TORE DOWN THE BANK AND WADED RIGHT INTO THE STREAM.Frontispiece (Page 61.)]
New YorkGrosset & DunlapPublishers
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1914, byGrosset & Dunlap
_The Girls of Hillcrest Farm_
CONTENTS
Chapter Page I. EVERYTHING AT ONCE! 1 II. AUNT JANE PROPOSES 10 III. THE DOCTOR DISPOSES 24 IV. THE PILGRIMAGE 37 V. LUCAS PRITCHETT 51 VI. NEIGHBORS 61 VII. HILLCREST 73 VIII. THE WHISPER IN THE DARK 85 IX. MORNING AT HILLCREST 96 X. THE VENTURE 109 XI. AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE 126 XII. THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER 134 XIII. LYDDY DOESN'T WANT IT 144 XIV. THE COLESWORTHS 161 XV. ANOTHER BOARDER 171 XVI. THE BALL KEEPS ROLLING 184 XVII. THE RUNAWAY GRANDMOTHER 192 XVIII. THE QUEER BOARDER 199 XIX. WIDOW HARRISON'S TROUBLES 208 XX. THE TEMPERANCE CLUB AGAIN 216 XXI. CAUGHT 224 XXII. THE HIDDEN TREASURE 236 XXIII. THE VENDUE 248 XXIV. PROFESSOR SPINK'S BOTTLES 258 XXV. IN THE OLD DOCTOR'S OFFICE 269 XXVI. A BLOW-UP 276 XXVII. THEY LOSE A BOARDER 283 XXVIII. THE SECRET REVEALED 289 XXIX. AN AUTOMOBILE RACE 298 XXX. THE HILLCREST COMPANY, LIMITED 303
THE GIRLS OF HILLCREST FARM
CHAPTER I
EVERYTHING AT ONCE!
Whenever she heard the siren of the ladder-truck, as it swung out of itsstation on the neighboring street, Lydia Bray ran to the single windowof the flat that looked out on Trimble Avenue.
They were four flights up. There were twenty-three other families in this"double-decker." A fire in the house was the oldest Bray girl's nightmareby night and haunting spectre by day.
Lydia just couldn't get used to these quarters, and they had been herenow three months. The old, quiet home on the edge of town had been sodifferent. To it she had returned from college so short a time ago to seeher mother die and find their affairs in a state of chaos.
For her father was one of those men who leave everything to the capablemanagement of their wives. Euphemia, or "'Phemie," was only a schoolgirl,then, in her junior year at high school; "Lyddy" was a sophomore atLittleburg when her mother died, and she had never gone back.
She couldn't. There were two very good reasons why her own and even'Phemie's education had to cease abruptly. Their mother's income, derivedfrom their grandmother's estate, ceased with her death. They could notlive, let alone pursue education "on the heights," upon Mr. Bray's wagesas overseer in one of the rooms of the hat factory.
"Mother's hundred dollars a month was just the difference betweenpoverty and comfort," Lyddy had decided, when she took the strings ofthe household into her own hands.
"I haven't that hundred dollars a month; father makes but fifteen dollarsweekly; _you_ will have to go to work at something, 'Phemie, and so willI."
And no longer could they pay twenty-five dollars a month house rent.Lyddy had first placed her sister with a millinery firm at six dollarsweekly, and had then found this modest tenement about half-way betweenher father's factory and 'Phemie's millinery shop, so that it would beequally handy for both workers.
As for herself, Lyddy wished to obtain some employment that would occupyonly a part of her day, and in this she had been unsuccessful as yet. Shereligiously bought a paper every morning, and went through the "helpwanted" columns, answering every one that looked promising. She had triedmany kinds of "work at home for ladies," and canvassing, and the like.The latter did not pay for shoe-leather, and the "work at home" peoplewere mostly swindlers. Lyddy was no needle-woman, so she could not makeanything as a seamstress.
She had promised her mother to keep the family together and make a homefor her father. Mr. Bray was not well. For almost two years now thedoctor had been warning him to get out of the factory and into someother business. The felt-dust was hurting him.
He had come in but the minute before and had at once gone to lie down,exhausted by his climb up the four flights of stairs. 'Phemie had not yetreturned from work, for it was nearing Easter, despite the rawness ofthe days, and the millinery shop was busy until late. They always waitedsupper for 'Phemie.
Now, when Lyddy ran to the window at the raucous shriek of theladder-truck siren, she hoped she would see her sister turning the cornerinto the avenue, where the electric arc-light threw a great circle ofradiance upon the wet walk.
But although there was the usual crowd at the corner, and all seemedto be in a hurry to-night, Lyddy saw nothing of either her sister orthe ladder-truck. She went back to the kitchen, satisfied that the fireapparatus had not swung into their street, so the tenement must be safefor the time being.
She finished laying the table for supper. Once she looked up. There wasthat man at the window again!
That is, he _would_ be a man some day, Lyddy told herself. But shebelieved, big as he was, he was just a hobbledehoy-boy. He was a boy who,if one looked at him, just _had_ to smile. And he was always working ina white apron and brown straw cuff-shields at that window which was alittle above the level of Lyddy's kitchen window.
Lyddy Bray abominated flirting and such silly practises. And althoughthe boy at the window was really good to look upon--cleanly shaven,rosy-cheeked, with good eyes set wide apart, and a firm, broad chin--Lyddydid not like to see him every time she raised her eyes from her ownkitchen tasks.
Often, even on dark days, she drew the shade down so that she should havemore privacy. For sometimes the young man looked idly out of the windowand Lyddy believed that, had she given him any encouragement, he wouldhave opened his own window and spoken to her.
The place in which he worked was a tall loft building; she believed hewas employed in some sort of chemical laboratory. There were retorts, andstrange glass and copper instruments in partial view upon his bench.
Now, having lighted the gas, Lyddy stepped to the window to pull downthe shade closely and shut the young man out. He was staring with strangeeagerness at her--or, at least, in her direction.
"Master Impudence!" murmured Lyddy.
He flung up his window just as she reached for the shade. But she saw thenthat he was looking above her story.
"It's those Smith girls, I declare," thought Lyddy. "Aren't they boldcreatures? And--really--I thought he was too nice a boy----"
That was the girl of it! She was shocked at the thought of having anyclandestine acquaintance with the young man opposite; yet it cheapened himdreadfully in Lyddy's eyes to see him fall prey to
the designing girlsin the flat above. The Smith girls had flaunted their cheap finery inthe faces of Lyddy and 'Phemie Bray ever since the latter had come hereto live.
She did not pull the shade down for a moment. That boy certainly wasacting in a most outrageous manner!
His body was thrust half-way out of the window as he knelt on his benchamong the retorts. She saw several of the delicate glass instrumentsoverturned by his vigorous motions. She saw his lips open and he seemedto be shouting something to those in the window above.
"How rude of him," thought the disappointed Lyddy. He had looked to be_such_ a nice young man.
Again she would have pulled down the shade, but the boy's actions stayedher hand.
He leaped back from the window and disappeared--for just a moment. Thenhe staggered into view, thrust a long and wide plank through his openwindow, and, bearing down upon it, shoved hard and fast, thrusting thenovel bridge up to the sill of the window above Lyddy's own.
"What under the sun does that fellow mean to do?" gasped the girl, halftempted to raise her own window so as to look up the narrow shaft betweenthe two buildings.
"He never would attempt to cross over to their flat," thought Lyddy. "Thatwould be quite too--ri--dic--u--lous----"
The youth was adjusting the plank. At first he could not steady it uponthe sill above Lyddy's kitchen window. And how dangerous it would be ifhe attempted to "walk the plank."
And then there was a roaring sound above, a glare of light, a crash ofglass and a billow of black smoke suddenly--but only for a moment--filledthe space between the two buildings!
The girl almost fell to the floor. She had always been afraid of fire,and it had been ever in her mind since they moved into this big tenementhouse. And now it had come without her knowing it!
While she thought the young man to be trying to enter into a flirtationwith the girls in the flat above, the house was afire! No wonder so manypeople had seemed running at the corner when she looked out of the frontwindow. The ladder-truck had swung around into the avenue without herseeing it. Doubtless the street in front of the tenement was choked withfire-fighting apparatus.
"Oh, dear me!" gasped Lyddy, reeling for the moment.
Then she dashed for the bedroom where her father lay. Smoke was siftingin from the hall through the cracks about the ill-hung door.
"Father! Father!" she gasped.
He lay on the bed, as still as though sleeping. But the noise above shouldhave aroused him by this time, had her own shrill cry not done so.
Yet he did not move.
Lyddy leaped to the bedside, seizing her father's shoulder with desperateclutch. She shook his frail body, and the head wagged from side to side onthe pillow in so horrible a way--so lifeless and helpless--that she wassmitten with terror.
Was he dead? He had never been like this before, she was positive.
She tore open his waistcoat and shirt and placed her hand upon his heart.It was beating--but, oh, how feebly!
And then she heard the flat door opened with a key--'Phemie's key. Hersister cried:
"Dear me, Lyddy! the hall is full of smoke. It isn't your stove that'ssmoking so, I hope? And here's Aunt Jane Hammond come to see us. I mether on the street, and these four flights of stairs have almost killedher----Why! what's happened, Lyddy?" the younger girl broke off to ask, asher sister's pale face appeared at the bedroom door.
"Everything--everything's happened at once, I guess," replied Lyddy,faintly. "Father's sick--we've got company--and the house is afire!"