CHAPTER XXIII
CAN IT BE DONE?
"Dear me!" exclaimed Betty. "How curious you are. I am not allowed to wearmy diamond earrings that Doctor and Mrs. Guerin gave me, of course. Theyare the old-fashioned kind for pierced ears, and would have to be reset,and diamonds are too old for me anyway. But Uncle Dick lets me wear anything else I own----"
"That locket," questioned Ida. "That pretty locket. It did fall out ofyour bag in the shop, didn't it, Betty?"
"My goodness!" stammered Betty, "did you find it?"
"I picked it up," said Ida soberly. "Mrs. Staples would not let me runafter you with it. But she promised to give it to you when you came andasked for it."
"She did? She never----"
Then Betty hesitated a moment. She remembered clearly just what had beensaid in the little neighborhood shop when she and Bobby had called thereto get Bobby's blue over-blouse.
"It's a fact, I never asked her for it," she said slowly. "No, I never. Ijust asked her if she had found anything, and she said 'No.'"
"She would! That would be like her!" cried Ida Bellethorne. "She is aperson who prides herself upon being exactly honest; and I guess thatmeans barely honest. Oh, Betty Gordon!"
"Well, now what's the matter?" asked Betty.
"Did--did you know you lost it in Mrs. Staples' shop?"
"No. I didn't know where I lost it. I only thought----"
"That I might have picked it up and said nothing about it?" demanded IdaBellethorne.
"Why Ida! I would not have hurt your feelings by saying anything about itfor the world," said Betty honestly. "That was why I didn't tell you. Yousee, if you really had known nothing about the locket when I asked you,all the time you would be afraid that I suspected you. Isn't that so?"
"You dear, good girl!" gasped Ida, dabbling her eyes with herhandkerchief. "And I didn't say anything because I thought you would thinkI wanted a reward for returning it."
"So, you see, I couldn't speak of it. But now, of course, we'll get itaway from Mrs. Staples. I think she's horrid mean!"
Betty expressed her opinion of the shopwoman vigorously, but she put herarms around the English girl at the same time and kissed her warmly.
"You're a dear!" repeated Ida.
"You're another!" cried Betty gaily. "Now come on! Maybe those boys willeat up all the dinner, and I am so hungry!"
One of the men arrived from Cliffdale during dinner with the mail and theinformation that another cold rain was falling and freezing to everythingit touched.
"The whole country about here will be one glare of ice in the morning,"said Mr. Canary. "You young folks will have all the sledding you care for,I fancy. I have seen the time when, after one of these ice storms, onemight coast from here to Midway Junction on the railroad, and that's amatter of twenty miles."
"What a lark that would be," cried Tommy Tucker. "Some slide, eh, Bob?"
"How about walking back?" asked the other boy promptly, grinning.
Letters and papers were distributed. There was at least one letter foreverybody but Ida, and Betty squeezed her hand under the table in acomforting way.
When they all retired from the table and gathered in groups in the bigliving room where the log fire roared Uncle Dick beckoned Betty to him. Heput a letter from Mrs. Eustice into the girl's hand and at one glance she"knew the worst."
"Oh Betty!" gasped Louise, "what's the matter?"
For Betty had emitted a squeal of despair. She shook the paper beforetheir eyes.
"Come on, Betty!" cried Bob. "Get it out--if it's a fishbone."
"It's all over!" wailed Betty. "Measles don't last as long as we thoughtthey did. Shadyside opens two days from to-morrow, and we have got to bethere. That's Monday. Oh, dear, dear, dear!"
"Say a couple more for me, Betty," growled Teddy Tucker. "I supposeSalsette will open too. Back to Major Pater and others too murderous tomention."
"And the Major's got it in for you Tucker twins," Bob reminded himwickedly.
"That's Tom's fault," grumbled Teddy. "If he hadn't sprung that snowballstunt--Oh, well! What's the use?"
"Life, Ted believes," said Louise, "is just one misfortune after another.But I do hate to leave here just as we have got nicely settled. Mygoodness! what's the matter with Ida? Something's happened to her, too."
Ida had sprung to her feet with one of the recently arrived New Yorkpapers in her hand. Actually she was pale, and it was no wonder thecompany stared at her when her cheeks were usually so ruddy.
"What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Canary.
Betty went to the English girl at once and put an arm about her shoulders.
"Did you see something in the paper that frightened you, Ida?" she asked.
"It doesn't frighten me," replied the girl, with trembling lips. "See.Read it. This time I am sure it is my aunt. See!"
Uncle Dick joined the group about the excited girl. Her color had comeback into her cheeks now and her eyes shone. She was usually soself-contained and quiet that Mr. Gordon now thought perhaps they had notreally appreciated how much the hope of joining her aunt meant to Ida.
"Read it aloud, Betty," said her uncle quietly.
"Oh! Here's her name! It must be right this time!" cried Betty; and thenshe obeyed her uncle's request:
"'The Toscanelli Opera Company, Salvatore Toscanelli manager, which has made a very favorable impression among the music lovers of the East and Middle West during the last few months, will sail for Rio Janeiro on Sunday on the _San Salvador_ of the Blue Star Line. The company has been augmented by the engagement of several soloists, among them Madam Ida Bellethorne, the English soprano, who has made many friends here during the past few years.'"
"Day after to-morrow!" exclaimed Bobby, the first to speak. "Why! maybe ifyou can go to New York you will see her, Ida."
"Day after to-morrow," repeated Ida, anxiously. "Can I get to New York bythat time? I--I have a little money----"
"Don't worry about the money, honey," Betty broke in. "You will have tostart early in the morning, won't she, Uncle Dick?"
"If she is to reach the steamer in time, yes," said the gentleman ratherdoubtfully.
"Oh! if I don't get there what shall I do?" cried Ida. "Rio Janeiro, why,that is in South America! It would cost hundreds of your dollars to pay mypassage there. I must get to Aunt Ida before she sails. I must!"
"Now, now!" put in Mrs. Canary soothingly. "Don't worry about it, child.That will not help. We will get you to the train to-morrow----"
"If we can," interrupted her husband softly.
He beckoned Uncle Dick away and they went out through the hall to look atthe weather, leaving the young folks and Mrs. Canary to encourage theEnglish girl.
Outside the two men did not find much in the appearance of the weather toencourage them. It was raining softly, for there was no wind; and it wasfreezing as fast as it fell.
"And that old shack-a-bones I keep here during the winter isn't sharpened.Ought to be, I know. But he isn't," grumbled Jonathan Canary.
"No use to think of snowshoes if it freezes, Jack," rejoined Mr. Gordon."It is too far to the railroad anyway. I doubt if these children get toschool on time."
"Telephone wires are down again. I just tried to get Cliffdale beforedinner. This is a wilderness up here, Dick."
"I am sorry for that young English girl," mused Mr. Gordon. "She is fairlyeaten up with the idea of getting in touch with her aunt. Good reason,too. She has told me all about it. She carries a letter from her deadfather to the woman and he begged the girl to be sure to put it into hissister's hands. Family troubles, Jack."
"Well, come on in. You're here without your hat. Want to get your death ofcold?" growled Mr. Canary.
The young folks did not dream at this time that nature was doing her bestto make it impossible for Ida Bellethorne to reach New York by Sundaymorning when the steamship _San Salvador_ would leave her dock. It was,however, the general topic of conversation during the evening. Whe
nbed-time came they went gaily to bed, not even Betty doubting thefeasibility of their getting to the train on the morrow.
Her uncle, however, put his head out of the door again when the others hadgone chamberward and seeing the shining, icy waste of the Overlook,muttered with growing anxiety:
"Can it be done?"
Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp; Or, The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne Page 23
