CHAPTER XV
DALKY TAKES A VACATION
Having concluded his business with the two representatives of Sam White’s estate, Mr. Dalken decided that he had earned a rest. Therefore, when the young people asked, “Where next?” he replied: “To Castle Hot Springs.”
This came as a surprise, because Jack had planned that day that they would all go on to Phœnix, where not only business could be attended to by the three men in the party, but the younger members would find every kind of sport they might care to enjoy.
Dalky’s wish was law, however, and that evening found his entire party domiciled at the high-class hotel located at the Springs. The main feature of interest seen from the autos on that drive from Hot Springs Junction, where they left the train, was the great varieties of cacti, some of which towered as high as twenty-five feet above the ground.
Hot Springs was an ideal resort for resting, and Dalky wished he might remain there a month. The golf and tennis, the open air swimming pools, the delightful horseback rides to points of interest, brought a sense of peace to the three men who had raced here and there in Illinois, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona ever since they met together at Chicago. The week spent at the Springs did more, perhaps, to stimulate Mr. Dalken’s keen and ever alert brain than anything he could have done.
Mrs. Courtney was not a devotee of swimming in ready-made pools, but she preferred a nice, comfortable bathtub. Therefore, she generally watched the others swim whenever they took the plunge. It needed no more than the first trial to show Mr. Dalken that he might give that time to better purposes, if he went for his swim before breakfast in the morning. So, the second day of the tourists’ stay at Hot Springs, found all but Mrs. Courtney and Mr. Dalken running to the pool about ten o’clock in the morning.
“Why, Dalky! Aren’t you coming in with us?” cried Polly.
“I’ve taken my dip—before breakfast,” returned he.
Eleanor sent Polly a knowing glance, and then plunged from the diving board. Jack and the three girls enjoyed the fun to the utmost, and thus they forgot to keep an eye upon the two watchers who usually received more than their share of attention from the girls.
Mrs. Alexander never came near the swimming pool, and Algy, of course, would not think of doing anything that his patroness did not approve; hence they were sitting on the verandah of the hotel, vainly believing they were the center of envious eyes, whereas the other guests then lounging about the wide porch never thought of the over-dressed lady and her insignificant escort.
Mr. Fuzzier and Mr. Alexander were splashing and diving about in the pool, and this left Mr. Dalken and his companion free to follow their own inclinations. By the time the two were missed from their recent post at the edge of the swimming pool, it was impossible to learn what had become of them.
The truth of the matter was that Mr. Dalken invited his friend to go for an auto drive to the Junction, where he wished to attend to some personal shopping. And Mrs. Courtney, having nothing better to do at the moment, accepted his friendly invitation. The distance to the Junction being about twenty-four miles, and the day being balmy and beautiful, the chauffeur was advised to drive slowly and give his passengers due opportunity to view the wonderful country they would pass through. Thus it took the entire morning before the two runaways were able to reach the hotel again, and this unaccounted for absence gave rise to all sorts of speculations in the minds of the girls.
Directly after coming from the dressing rooms of the bath-houses, Eleanor whispered to her two companions: “Now I know why Dalky wanted this vacation. He was head over heels in attending to financial matters of the utmost importance, and suddenly, when he found that Atchison man making up to Mrs. Courtney, he takes us all away from the busy world and loses a week here at the Hot Springs. He knows he will have his chance here to carry out his plans—you know what, girls!”
Polly knew, but she was not easily persuaded that Eleanor’s interpretation was correct. “I really believe Dalky was tired out—you must remember that we had a few weeks in which to rest after the cruise from South America, but Dalky went right on racing about New York, holding conferences and attending to important business matters. From the moment we left New York City on the Limited, he has been working ceaselessly—either with brain or body, and that tells on one, unless you take a rest. At the same time, I doubt if he would have thought of resting at this ideal resort had it not been for Mrs. Courtney. Now it remains to be seen how near right Nolla is.”
“I agree with Polly—Dalky is too matter-of-fact to plan any romantic affair here at the Springs. If he wants to ask some one to marry him, I bet he’d do it right in front of us all,” said Dodo.
“There you are mistaken!” exclaimed Polly and Eleanor together. And Polly added: “Dalky has more romance in his make-up than you give him credit for. The only trouble is that it has been suppressed by the unhappy conditions of his first marriage.”
“You might say the same about Mrs. Courtney, too!” declared Eleanor. “If it were not that both of them have had such lamentable experiences, I am sure they would have shown each other plainly, long before this, that they were ideally mated, and that would have ended all our worries.”
Dodo laughed merrily and then added: “Nothing to worry about, Nolla. It isn’t as though he was your beau.”
“No; but can’t you see that it does matter? If Dalky is happily married to Mrs. Courtney, who is his other half-soul if there is such a thing, it stands to reason that Polly and I shall always be welcome additions to their little nest. Should Dalky marry some woman of whom we know nothing, what chance is there for our future welcome?” Eleanor frowned at such a dreadful supposition, and her two friends laughed.
“You may be married first, Nolla, and then you can invite Dalky to visit you,” ventured Dodo.
“No, Doe! Polly and I have sworn to see dear Dalky happily settled first, before we may give a thought to husbands for ourselves,” explained Eleanor, seriously.
“Wouldn’t it be queer if Dalky should confess he was in love with Polly? He certainly likes her more than any one else I know. If Polly became Mrs. Dalken we would sure have a good time with her,” laughed Dodo.
“Why!” gasped Polly, horrified. “You talk like a—a—a I don’t know what!”
Eleanor laughed aloud. “That is sacrilege, Dodo. Polly reveres Dalky too much to ever dream of wasting his life by thinking of her for a future bride.”
“Besides, there is Tom Latimer to be reckoned with. If Dalky ever carried out such a plan as I just mentioned, Tom Latimer would have his heart—like Shylock, you know,” giggled Dodo, enjoying Polly’s annoyance and horror.
“But Shylock never got that heart,” added Eleanor. “Neither would Tom get Dalky’s—but such things are out of the question.”
“I should think they were!” snapped Polly. “You girls seem to be beau-crazy, and I have no patience with you—not a bit.” So saying, she walked quickly away by herself.
When the three girls met again it was at luncheon time. Mr. Dalken and Mrs. Courtney were ascending the front steps of the wide verandah, but there were no tell-tale expressions upon the faces of either one. Eleanor searched in vain for the blush that might inform her whether Mrs. Courtney planned to become Mrs. Dalken.
Mrs. Alexander learned that Mrs. Courtney had accompanied the young folks to the swimming pool every morning, and she immediately conjectured that she did this in order to wear a fetching gown and carry her white wrap—white was so becoming to elderly women!
Then she heard that Mr. Dalken had escorted her there, and Mr. Fuzzier had come up out of the water to sit upon the bank and talk with her. This was enough incentive for her to plan how she would take Algy, and walk to the pool in the morning, and show off her lovely white serge gown and suede shoes. She had a flapper-stick which she had used at Colorado Springs, fondly believing herself the envy of all the women. This she would carry the following morning.
She knew better than to breathe a word of her plan to any one else, but directly after breakfast the next morning, she went to her room and began to dress for the parade she had decided upon.
Algy had been commanded to sit and wait for his patroness, and he obeyed just as any good little poodle would do. He sat slowly rocking in a huge, reed, porch chair, vacantly staring at a great stucco pillar of the pergola. Not that there was aught to see upon the pillar, but it served to interest his mind as well as anything.
The group of swimmers left the hotel to go to the bathhouses, and soon after this Mrs. Alexander came out of her room, dressed as she had planned the previous evening. She carried her imported flapper-stick, and she also carried a most artistic basket which contained some wool and a partly knitted scarf. She knew nothing about a knitting needle, but the basket was a beautiful Indian specimen recently purchased by Dodo at Grand Canyon, and Dodo’s knitting might lead guests to believe that the lady carrying the work was accomplished in the art. Other ladies sitting upon the verandah during morning hours had compared their knitting and embroidery, and Mrs. Alexander understood it was quite the proper thing to do.
Algy hopped up the moment he saw Mrs. Alexander approach, and she, in order to be impressive before the group of ladies busily at work upon their handicraft, handed him the basket with the admonition:
“Do be careful, Algy, of the ball of wool. If it falls out it may ravel all my knitting, you know. And that stitch is a very intricate one to do.”
Algy took the basket as though it were some sacred relic, and, as he toddled after Mrs. Alexander, he caused smiles upon the faces of the ladies watching the little scene. After the two had gone down the foot-path, those upon the verandah left little unsaid about the vanity of the lady and the vacuity of the young man.
Mrs. Alexander felt sure she had caused a feeling of envy in the hearts of every woman upon that verandah, and this certainty made her feel satisfied with herself. As she reached the pool where an iron hand-rail protects watchers from falling into the water, she smiled to herself, thinking how much better she looked in comparison with Mrs. Courtney, who stood upon the platform with Mr. Dalken.
Mr. Alexander had just scrambled out of the pool and now was mounting to the platform, when Mr. Fuzzier, at his heels, spoke to him. “Your wife is standing over there watching you, Alex.”
“Umph! There’s safety in distance!” grunted Mr. Alexander.
Mrs. Alexander saw that the three men seemed to be devoting their attention to Mrs. Courtney, and this was not as it should be, thought she. Hence she turned to Algy, and said: “I am going over to join my husband, Algy,” and she nodded in the direction of the group upon the diving-platform.
Algy followed as usual, carrying the ornamental basket upon his arm. In walking too near Mrs. Alexander, however, he inadvertently stubbed his toe and stumbled. To steady himself he caught at her arm, and unconsciously dropped the basket.
Having righted himself once more, he stooped and picked up the basket, but he failed to notice that the ball of worsted rolled out and remained caught under a tuft of grass beside the walk. When he started again for the platform, the ball began to unroll its length of wool, and the scarf also began to respond to the tugging at it as it remained in the basket, and the stitches gradually ravelled out. By the time Algy joined those standing upon the platform, half of Dodo’s pretty scarf had diminished into its original strand of wool.
Mrs. Alexander swung her handsome cane aimlessly to and fro to attract Mrs. Courtney’s attention, since that was the only reason for her carrying it, but her husband also saw it.
“By the Great Horned Spoon, Maggie! How’d you ever come to fetch a walkin’ stick? Folks will think you are locoed.”
But his wife paid no heed to his remark—he was too ignorant of the ways of fashionable society to cause her any concern. She turned to prattle to Mrs. Courtney about the jealousy of the women upon the hotel verandah—“They are so envious of one who has better clothes, you know, that I really had to leave them. Did you ever see such dowdies as they are?”
Mrs. Courtney had not noticed, and she admitted it. At the same time she had to control a desire to tell Mrs. Alexander how unsuitably she was dressed for a simple morning recreation hour. Perhaps Mr. Alexander would have spoken for her, had not Algy diverted all attention to himself.
Jack had been watching the slow progress of Algy and his companion from the pathway to the platform, and he planned, when he saw the young man so near the water, that he would swim close to the side and begin to splash, so that the water would sprinkle him.
Algy had been intent upon the conversation between the two ladies, and now, when he felt the drops of water falling upon him, he looked aloft, thinking a sprinkler or shower must be leaking upon him. Seeing nothing overhead, he glanced down and saw some one kicking and sending up great showers of water. Algy felt that it was his duty to speak to this thoughtless swimmer, and to warn him that well-groomed persons upon the platform would be made uncomfortable.
“Heah, you! I say! Don’t cha see what youah ah doing? My white flannels are all spotted, and the ladies——” At this moment Algy’s foot slid upon the wet, slippery plank, and in another second he had made a head dive—basket and wool, and all!
Since he detested water in quantity sufficient for swimming, Algy was unprepared for his impromptu bath. It was quite deep beneath the platform, to accommodate those who wished to dive, and now the frightened youth came to the surface spluttering and throwing hands above his head in a wild attempt to clutch at some support.
Mrs. Alexander received the first genuine shock in many moons, and she acted like the old-time Maggie whom Mr. Alexander remembered with regret. “My goodness, Ebeneezer!” cried she, forgetting the expensive cane in her fear for Algy’s life, and using it to hold down for him to hold to. “Jump in and save him quick!”
“That ain’t the ocean, Maggie,” retorted her husband. “A little warm water won’t hurt his head.”
“Oh, you cruel man. Won’t some one save the boy?” pleaded she.
“Jack!” shouted Mr. Dalken, “swim up and give him help to climb up on the steps.”
Jack had been hovering near enough to Algy to grip him when he had been sufficiently tested, and now he reached out and grabbed him by the coat collar and propelled him over to the steep steps which led up from the pool.
“There you are, my son,” laughed Jack, as he tried to show Algy how he was to hold fast to the handrail.
But the frightened young man appeared to have lost all sense, for he merely hung limp from Jack’s grasp. After a short time of having to hold up his weight, Jack got tired, and said: “I’m going to drop him if he won’t help himself. I can’t carry him out as though he had been drowned, Dalky!”
The word “drowned” seemed to rouse the dormant brain in Algy, and he frantically caught hold of anything within reach. Fortunately it happened to be the steps, and soon he had his feet upon them. Then Jack boosted from behind, while Mrs. Alexander caught hold of his hair and pulled from above.
“Ouch! Ouch!” screamed Algy, but he feared to let go his grasp on the ladder in order to make the hand clutching his long blonde hair release its hold.
Thus he came up over the top of the platform, a dripping, drowned-looking, lank young man, the tears streaming from his eyes, and the water streaming from every wrinkle in his sopping clothes. He presented such a pathetic yet comic picture that his friends wavered between a desire to laugh and a desire to sympathize. Eventually both were indulged, but Algy paid no heed to either.
“What shall I do?” wailed he, shivering as he sent a glance of terror at the pool.
“Go right into the bath-house and ask the attendant to give you a rub-down and dry your clothes,” advised Mr. Dalken.
But Algy seemed to have had his last bit of sense washed out of him, and he stood shivering without making a move to do as he had been advised. Then Mr. Alexander took a hand in the case.
“Come along there, A. A. A.! If you don’t get off this wet platform, you’ll slip back in the pool again. Now come on!”
As though the threat of more water roused him from sleep, Algy hurried after Mr. Alexander. Then it was seen that he still clutched the Indian basket; and the strand of wool, having so entangled itself through the dive and the rescue, stretched and stretched, and at last it snapped! When Mrs. Alexander saved her daughter’s work-basket, still dangling from Algy’s hand, the scarf had been unravelled, and but one row of stitches remained upon the needles in the basket.
“Why, Ma! Isn’t that my work-basket which A. A. A. has upon his arm?” exclaimed Dodo, astonishment uppermost in her expression.
“I think it is, Dodo. I used it for my work, this morning, but I did not remove your knitting.”
“Your work! What work was that, Ma?” asked Dodo, in amazement.
“Oh! A bit of work that I wanted to do this morning. Something of which you know nothing. I fear it is gone now—in the pool, likely,” and Mrs. Alexander sighed with regret.
