The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point; Or a Wreck and a Rescue

by Laura Lee Hope

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE SHADOW LIFTS

  "I wonder if it is going to rain forever," cried Mollie petulantly,beating a restless tattoo on the window pane. "As if we weren't forlornenough without the old weather making things a hundred times worse."

  "They say troubles never come singly, and I guess they're right," sighedAmy. She was sitting near the window in the brightest spot she couldfind--which was not very bright at that--knitting and trying her bestnot to think of Will. The result was that he was never for a minute outof her mind.

  "What's the matter, Grace--I mean more than usual?" Betty laid aside herbook and looked over at Grace questioningly. "I don't believe you'vesaid three consecutive words all day long."

  "And left to myself I wouldn't say that much," returned Grace moodily,adding, as they turned to stare at her: "It seems as if I never open mymouth these days but what I say something unpleasant, so I made up mymind last night that I wouldn't talk till I had something cheerful totalk about."

  "Then you're apt to be dumb till doomsday," retorted Mollie, with such adepth of pessimism that the girls had to smile at her.

  "What an awful thing to happen to a girl," said Betty, with a wry littlesmile.

  "I'm glad you didn't say what girl," retorted Grace, and therewithsubsided into her gloomy meditation again.

  Betty took up her book and Amy went on with her knitting while the raincame down in torrents and the surf thundered and roared.

  Mollie turned from the window and looked at them, and the wholesituation suddenly appealed to her rather hysterical sense of humor. Shebegan to laugh, and the longer she laughed the harder she laughed tillshe sank into a chair and shook with mirth.

  The other girls first looked surprised, then alarmed.

  Betty threw down her book and went over to her.

  "For goodness sake, Mollie, what's the joke?" she asked, as Mollielooked up at her with red face and watery eyes.

  "If it's as funny as all that I think you might share it with us," addedGrace.

  "Oh, it isn't funny," gasped Mollie, "it's h-horrible."

  Then as suddenly as she had begun to laugh, she began to cry with greatsobs that tore themselves from her and seemed utterly beyond hercontrol.

  Alarmed, the girls soothed and patted and comforted her till finally thestorm had passed and she became more quiet.

  "You must think I'm a p-perfect idiot," she sputtered, raising swolleneyes to them. "I don't know what in the w-world g-got into me. I justwent all to pieces."

  "So we see," said Betty, while she gently wiped Mollie's eyes with aclean handkerchief. "But please don't do it again," she addedwhimsically. "I don't believe we could survive another one."

  "But it's made me feel better," said Mollie, a minute later, as thoughthe discovery surprised her. "It's made me feel lots better," she added.

  "I wonder if we couldn't all try it," suggested Amy.

  "Yes, how do you get that way," added Grace, with interest. "I'm willingto try anything once."

  "It--it isn't pleasant while it lasts," said Mollie, adding with asuggestion of a smile: "And I doubt if I could give you the recipe."

  "I wonder," Amy suggested shyly after a little while, "if perhaps alittle music wouldn't help out. Won't you play for us, Betty?"

  "Oh, Betty, please!" Grace took up the suggestion eagerly. "It wouldtake our minds off ourselves."

  "Yes, do, Betty. You know you never refuse," urged Mollie, jumping upand escorting the Little Captain to the piano.

  Betty obediently sat down to the piano, but her fingers wandered overthe keys uncertainly. She did not want to play. Music, good music,always roused in her a feeling of exquisite sadness, a pain that wasakin to joy, and in her present mood she was afraid to play.

  But the girls had asked her to, and if it would make them feel anybetter--

  She struck a chord of exquisite harmony, and every fibre in her seemedyearningly to respond. She had meant to play something bright andcheerful, but almost against her will her fingers wandered into Grieg's"To Spring."

  The elusive, plaintive melody floated throbbingly out into the room,while the girls sat motionless, fascinated. They had never heard Bettyplay just this way before, and instinctively they knew that she wasshowing them her heart.

  She played it through to the last whispering note, then dropped herhead upon her arms and sobbed as though her heart would break.

  "You shouldn't have asked me," she said, when they tried to comfort her."I knew I couldn't play without making a f-fool of myself. It was theone--Allen loved best--" the last words so low that they had to bendclose to hear them.

  "Poor little Betty!" cried Mollie, stroking her hair gently. "It wasselfish of us to ask you, but you did play it wonderfully," she addedwith a sudden little burst of enthusiasm. "You had us all hypnotized."

  "And then I had to go and spoil everything by making a baby of myself,"Betty lamented. "Goodness, I've cried more in the last week than in allthe rest of my life before."

  "Well, you have had plenty of company," said Grace dryly. "Though whatcomfort that is, I never could see."

  Betty sat up, dabbed a last tear from her eyes, and looked about herwith a weak little attempt at a smile.

  "Well," she said, "now that Mollie and I have entertained the company, Iwonder who's next?"

  "I'll recite that little ditty entitled, 'The Face On the BarroomFloor'," Amy volunteered. "Some kind person wished it upon me when I wastoo young to object."

  "Don't you dare," said Grace, alarmed. "If you do I'm going out, rain orno rain--"

  "And get drowned."

  "Well, there are worse things."

  "No there aren't," denied Amy, with a shiver. "I know, because I triedit."

  At that moment came an interruption in the shape of a sharp rapping atthe kitchen door.

  The girls looked at one another questioningly.

  "Mercy, I wonder who's calling upon us in this weather?" said Mollie.

  "It might be a good idea to look and see," Betty returned dryly, and ranto the kitchen, followed closely by the others.

  She flung open the door, letting in a gust of wind and a flood of rainas she did so, and a tall figure in a rubber coat almost fell into theroom.

  "Why, it's our delivery-boy-mail-carrier!" cried Betty, as the younggiant recovered himself and pulled off his dripping hat.

  "Yes'm," he replied, with a good-natured grin that stretched from ear toear. "The very same, an' at your service."

  "But how did you manage to get here?" cried Betty, too astonished evento offer the unexpected visitor a seat. "You never could drive throughthat awful mud."

  "No'm, I reckon mos' likely I couldn't," he answered amiably, addingwith a return of the loquacity that was his most marked failing: "Iremember one year we had a storm near's bad as this, an' Luke Bailey, hegot kind of short o' pervisions--campin' in the woods he was--an' hetried to drive his team into town--"

  "But you said you didn't drive out!" Grace interrupted. "And if youdidn't drive, you must have walked all the way."

  "Yes'm, reckon I did. Well, Luke he got jest about as fur--"

  "But why did you come?" broke in Mollie, unable to bear the suspense anylonger.

  "I got this here package of letters," he replied, seeming suddenly toremember the cause of his errand. "Some o' them came a couple o' daysago, but I said to myself I might jest as well wait an' see if theweather didn't clear up--"

  "And so when it didn't, you walked away up here in all the rain," Bettyfinished for him, real gratitude in her voice. "It was most awfully kindof you."

  "Oh, that ain't nothin'," he denied, fidgeting uneasily, while Molliehastily sorted the letters. "I ain't never finished tellin' you whathappened to Luke Bailey--"

  He was off again, and the girls were vaguely conscious of his voicerambling on and on while they eagerly scanned the handwriting on theirletters.

  Then suddenly Betty gave a little cry and stumbled back against thetable, holding on to it for supp
ort.

  "Betty! Honey! What is it?" cried Amy. "You look as white as a ghost."

  "A letter," she gasped, holding out an envelope with the familiar reddiamond in the corner. She was shaking from head to foot. "Girls, oh,girls, it's from Allen!" Then she turned and fled from the room.

  Luke Bailey's biographer stared after her stupidly while the girlsgasped and looked wildly at one another for confirmation of what theyhad heard.

  "A letter!" she had said. "From Allen!"

  Then he was not dead--their dazed brains comprehended that fact. And hecould not be missing either. After a minute that stupefying fact becameequally clear.

  Then slowly they regained the use of their tongues.

  "Did you hear what I heard?" asked Mollie, looking from Grace to Amy andback again.

  "I think I'm awake," Grace answered, with the same incredulous look inher eyes.

  "She said," Amy repeated slowly, "that she had received a letter fromAllen. Then the report that he was missing must have been a mistake."

  "It looks that way," said Mollie, two spots of color beginning to burnin her face. Then she turned to the boy who was still staring stupidlyfrom one to the other of them. Even the story of Luke Bailey had beentemporarily driven from his mind.

  "Miss Nelson," Mollie explained, taking pity on his bewilderment, "hasreceived the most wonderful news, and we can't thank you enough forbringing it to her. Can't we get you a cup of tea or something?" sheoffered, rather vaguely.

  But the boy refused, and seeing that they were all tremendously excitedabout something, he finally took his leave, feeling very much abusedthat his story of Luke and his adventures had not been listened to withthe attention it deserved.

  Once the door was closed behind this angel in disguise, the girls rushedafter Betty and were met and nearly bowled over by that delirious littleperson herself.

  "He's not missing--never was!" she cried, waving the letter wildly inthe air, beside herself with relief and joy. "He's just as well as everhe was, and Grace darling, and Amy, too, he says, he says--"

  "Oh, what?" cried Grace, her face growing white while Amy clutched theback of a chair.

  Betty tried to pull herself together. She turned the pages of the letterin search of a particular place. Finding it, she began:

  "He says that Will--Oh read it," she cried, thrusting the letter intoGrace's hands. "There it is--that paragraph. Read it aloud, Grace. Oh, Ithink--I think--I'll die of joy!"