CHAPTER XXI
BRIGHTER BUT NOT QUITE CLEAR
So that was what the girls meant when they spoke of the threatened reform school. Miss Davis had not burst out in anger, as Babs had imagined she might have done. How different things were after all. Perhaps it was foolish to get so excited. But the girls seemed so hateful. That was what hurt so. They just enjoyed cutting her, Barbara was quickly thinking, and in doing so she was again building up a wall of imagination that might be all wrong; just as she had been wrong about the reform school.
It had been a wonderful opening at the Community House. Speeches were made by many prominent men and women interested in the development of the Community House plan, and of course, a tribute had been paid to the girls’ part in the affair. Best of all Barbara Hale stood there, right beside her proud father, and heard her own name called out as a most efficient young chairman. There was some satisfaction in that.
How much that made up for! Barbara hadn’t realized that she cared until the glory was being all swept away, when the girls threatened to resign. But all the same, she saw them there now with Cara as cheer leader, and they did clap their hands in the applause that followed the calling out of her name. So perhaps they were sorry for their spite. She was glad of that too. Another surprise for her. Miss Davis stood beside her and had her kindly arm around Barbara’s waist. This, no doubt, had helped change the girls’ opinion. Or maybe it wasn’t changed either way, as she had feared.
Well, at any rate, things looked brighter. The family sampler was placed among the things to be selected in the final issue of prizes, and none of the other girls had brought any heirlooms in. Cara talked of loaning a very old Chinese print, but she decided it might not be understood so she didn’t bring it in after all.
“Might think the laundry man gave it to us for Christmas,” she joked when Babs urged her to fetch it. “No, I don’t think I will. It wouldn’t jibe in with Mrs. Brownell’s early American table.” This of course had become the standard joke of the entire exhibit. The table set the style. If it didn’t go with the table it wouldn’t go with the show, was the way Cara argued, humorously.
So that Babs had fared very well after all, and she cared because her father cared. Now folks would not speak of her as a girl deprived of a girl’s pleasures, because she had to help her father in his laboratory work.
Everything was bustle and confusion when Cara slipped around through a little pantry door, came up the back way, and grabbed Barbara.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “The girls are all over their huff. We shouldn’t have kept them so long waiting. That’s enough to make anybody mad.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” Babs answered, somewhat truthfully for she was feeling very brave now. “We’ve finished our work, anyway. The women will take charge now.”
“But you’re not going to—to keep it up, are you Babs?” asked Cara, anxiously.
“You mean—the scrap?”
“Yes. Really, they are sorry.”
“They ought to be,” Babs retorted. “Why should they blame me?”
“Oh, you know what kids they are,” laughed Cara. “Come on. I’m going for a soda. I’m choked. Come along. Want to fetch your daddy?”
“I guess he’s riding with Mr. Hunt,” Babs answered. “Let’s go. I’m smothered,” and bidding a quick good-bye to the newly found relation, Miss Isabel Davis, Barbara hurried along with Cara.
The soda was refreshing. They sipped it leisurely in Hills, both girls a little tired and one girl, Babs, a little anxious.
“If only old Captain Quiller knows where Nicky may have gone,” she said, “I feel positive we will be able to clear everything up. Wherever do you suppose the old model went to, anyway?” she asked again, for the question was constantly recurring to her.
“If I could guess that,” Cara answered, “I would be smart. Look who’s coming!” she broke off suddenly. “There’s Dud and Glenn.”
“’Low there!” sang out Cara’s brother as he espied them. “Where on earth did you two hail from? I had an idea you were in Europe or some such town. Haven’t seen you——”
“For a month of blue moons,” Babs supplied. “Hello Glenn! Where have you been? Forgotten where Dr. Hale lives?” she joked, for her friend Glenn had rather deserted her lately.
“Nopey. I haven’t. But you girls are always so goshed busy a fellow doesn’t dare bust in,” Glenn replied. “Have more soda, or a lolly-pop or sumthin’? Just to be sociable, do,” he urged, for the girls had pushed their almost empty glasses aside.
“Couldn’t possibly,” Cara answered.
“Nor I,” declared Babs. “The best I could do to oblige would be to accept a box of nice two-toned writing paper, Glenn; that is if you insist, of course.”
“Well, we’ll get to the writing paper after the soda,” Glenn replied dryly. “How do you like our new coats of tan? Dud has had me out at dawn running up and down the beach, training you know,” he explained. The girl with the paper cap, and gingham apron, and cheerful smile had taken the boys’ order. She must have loved to serve soda the way she smiled at those boys.
They joked and chatted until Babs wondered if the hour planned for her visit to the lighthouse would be all used up, there at Hills. It was pleasant to meet the boys again, and they were going to camp, a military training camp, late in the summer, so that they too had much to talk about. But she could not spare the time.
Glenn and Dudley had become great friends; just as great as Babs and Cara; that was evident.
“And oh, say!” sang out Dudley suddenly. “Know what?”
“No, what?” answered Babs punning on his exclamation.
“Our little Nicky brought me the corkingest little wooden mug, all carved in queer birds and little beasties——”
“When?” interrupted Babs eagerly.
“When what? Birds or beasties?” asked Dudley.
“Oh, when did he bring them, silly?” Cara asked her brother. She understood Babs’ eagerness.
“Well,” drawled Dudley, as a boy will when he knows a girl is anxious, “to be exact——” He looked at his watch.
“Please tell me when he came, Dud?” Babs asked frankly. “I’ve lost track of Nicky and I must find him.”
“Oh; that’s different,” replied the boy. “Well, he came this morning while Glenn and I were knocking up some wonderful tennis. He crawled through the hedge and I imagine he swam the brook. He looked just about like something that had swum a brook when the brook was being swept out. He can look too funny, that youngster.”
“Did he say anything about having moved?” Barbara asked impatiently.
“Nary a word. But say, Babs, they don’t move, they flit, like the birds. And a good thing too. Lucky dogs! Everybody ought to flit instead of moving. Remember when we last moved, little sister?”
“Oh, forget it,” answered Cara. “Don’t try to remember it. But say Dud, listen. Where has Nicky flitted to? That’s the great question.”
“How should I know? He just plunked the wooden thing under my nose and I plunked a dollar bill in his fist, and there you are!” Dudley could be brief and expressive at times.
“Let’s go, Cara,” urged Babs. “I really must go, you know,” she insisted.
“Oh, say,” interrupted Glenn. “Who was going to eat that box of writing paper? Call the waiter. Here!” this was to a boy who stood grinning behind the counter. “Where’s your best stationery——”
“If you are going to treat us, Glenn,” Cara cut in, “let’s select our own. Do, please. Come along Babs. We’ll teach him not to be rash. We’ll buy the very best,” and laughingly, she led Babs to the pretty glass counter in the very back of the store where all sorts of attractive things in stationery and powder boxes were gaudily displayed.
A little later, armed each with a magazine that Dudley insisted upon buying them, and the gold-edged blue-lined writing paper that Glenn gladly paid for, they finally made their escape.
“Do let’s rush along,” begged Babs. “We must get to the lighthouse before supper-time and I suppose they eat at six o’clock sharp, government time,” she suggested gaily. “Oh, Cara, I am feeling better every minute, aren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s the soda, the writing paper and the magazine. All cheerful little things,” Cara answered, starting her car. “But say, Babby, did you have any sort of inspiration when Dud told about more wood carving?”
“No, Cara, why?” asked Babs, breathlessly.
“I did.”
“You did. What?”
“I thought maybe, just maybe you know, that the boat model was borrowed for a model.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You are not usually so stupid, Babby dear,” sighed Cara. “Can’t you see? It wouldn’t really be stealing if friend Nicky took the little boat for some one to copy, would it?”
“Cara!”
“Now, would it?”
“Not stealing,” said Babs slowly. “But who would want to copy it?”
“Stupid again. Whoever does the beautiful carving, of course.”
“Oh.” Babs fell into silence after that. She had not thought of such a possibility and it sort of staggered her.
“Copy the model?” she said finally.
“Why not?” pressed Cara. “It was worth copying, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was. Cara, you’re a wonder. I never would have thought of such a thing,” Babs declared still a little jerky.
“Oh, yes, you would. I didn’t give you time. But don’t build your hopes too high, dear. I may be all wrong,” drawled Cara.
“I hope you’re all right,” said Babs fervently. Then she stared hard ahead, as the car cut its way through the heavy sand. She was wondering. Nicky said he hadn’t taken the model—no, he said he hadn’t stolen it.
“And wasn’t it queer,” Cara broke in on her thoughts, “that he, Nicky, should fetch Dud another piece? Whoever cuts those out must be an expert,” she promptly decided.
“Yes,” said Babs abstractedly.
“And Nicky’s like Hop-o-My-Thumb,” she added. “We just about get on his track when he—hops.”
“Yes,” said Babs again.
“If I said you were handsome would you say yes, Babs?”
“Yes,” said her companion. Then they both burst out laughing.
“I knew I’d catch you. Well, you’re not handsome, not when you pucker up your forehead that way, anyhow. Now, here we are on our way to the lighthouse, and here’s where we get out and walk,” she went on. “I suppose we’ll have to wait until morning if the captain is trimming his lamp,” she finished, locking her car and then following Babs through the deep sand to the little path that led along the beach to the lighthouse.
A big, shaggy, friendly dog rushed out to them.
“Captain in?” Babs asked the dog.
“Whoo-of!” barked the animal playfully, licking Babs’ hand as an after thought.
“Yes, he’s in,” said Cara. “I see his foot. See it sticking out there in the bushes?” she directed, for the porch of the lighthouse was surrounded by a stubby growth generously called bushes, and they could see the outlines of a shoe among them.
There was the scuffling of a chair as the girls reached the funny little home-made porch.
“Well, now,” declared the captain moving in his chair but not rising. “Here you both are! How do? See, I’ve a game leg and can’t get up,” he explained. “Slipped on the third step the other night. Ouch!” he groaned as he moved the “game leg” unintentionally. “There ain’t nuthin’ worse,” he declared still groaning.
“Hurt your foot?” Cara managed to say. “That’s too bad, Captain. You need both your feet to climb up to the light.”
“Don’t I though? Find a place to sit down among those books. I’ve been readin’ my head off, me and Mac” (he patted the dog affectionately) “and it’s tough being stuck in a chair with a pretty sea like that rolling under your very nose.”
“Yes, it must be,” agreed Babs. “But Captain Quiller. I’m sorry to be in a hurry, but I have to be,” she sort of apologized. “Can you tell me where Nicky has moved to?”
“Moved to? You mean flew to.” (It was the same sort of expression Dudley had used.) “They’ve gone to the woods. Didn’t you know?”
“To the woods!” both girls exclaimed.
“Yessir. And sensible thing to do too. The woods is just the place for them.” And Captain Quiller brought his cane down so hard and so near his sore foot that he groaned anyhow, although he didn’t touch it.
“Where? What woods!” demanded Barbara impatiently.
“Well, now. Not so easy to locate from here seein’ as how it’s some miles back. But he’ll be here, Nicky will. He’s my stand-by now,” the captain declared proudly. “Depend more on him than I can on Pete. Yessir, Nick is some boy.”
Barbara loved to hear him praise her little protégé. She didn’t realize it, of course, but she was taking Nicky and his affairs to heart just as grown folks take protégés and their affairs.
“Couldn’t we find their camp?” pressed Cara. “We really want to speak to Nicky just as soon as we can.”
“By the time you would find him he would be due here likely,” answered Captain Quiller. “Hope nothin’s wrong?”
“No, not exactly,” said Babs, “just a little mixed up.”