MOTHER WIT HAS AN IDEA
The ice carnival had been such a success in a spectacular as well as a monetary way that many of the friends of the Central High girls and boys declared they would like to have it repeated. More than a thousand dollars--to be exact, one thousand and twenty dollars--had been made for the Red Cross.
Centerport was doing its very best to gather its quota for the great institution that was doing so much good in the world. Janet Steele confessed to Laura that she had gained more than one hundred dollar memberships, and that nearly all of these had given something in addition to their membership fee.
"I wish we girls could help," said Laura wistfully.
"And you having done so much already!" cried Janet. "Why, you've already done more than your share! And doing a play, too!"
"I am afraid the play will not be a great success," Mother Wit sighed, but more to herself than to the other girl.
Those who wished to repeat the ice carnival success had to give the idea up, for before the end of the week there swept down over the North Woods and across frozen Lake Luna such a blizzard as the surrounding country had not seen for several years. The street cars stopped running, traffic of all sorts was tied up, and even the electricity for lighting purposes was put out of commission for twenty-four hours.
Of course, it did not keep many of the girls and boys of Central High at home. Snow piled up in the streets did not daunt them at all. But when the amateur actors undertook to rehearse they had to do so by the light of candles and kerosene lamps.
The rehearsal did not go very well, either. The girls were "snippy" to each other--at least, Jess said they were, and Bobby declared she was one of the very "snippiest--so there!"
"Girls! Girls!" begged Laura, "when there are so many other people to fight, let us not fight each other. 'Little birds should in their nests agree,' and so forth."
"Oh, poodle soup!" ejaculated Bobby, under her breath. "Don't anybody dare spring old saws and sayings on me in my present mood."
"I believe you'd bite, Bobby," whispered Nellie Agnew.
A cry went up for Lily Pendleton, and then it was found that she was not present.
"The only girl who is made of either sugar or salt," declared Josephine Morse. "Of course, the snow would keep her away!"
"But where is her friend, Miss Grimes?" asked Mr. Mann, rather tartly. "I shall have my work cut out for me in training her, I fear."
"You will, indeed," moaned Laura.
"Now, Mr. Mann!" cried Bobby boldly, "you are not really going to let that Hester Grimes act in this play, are you? She is perfectly horrid!"
"Miss Hargrew," was the somewhat sharp answer, "I hope you will not let personal dislikes enter into this play. It does not matter who or what Miss Grimes may be, if she can take the part--"
"But she'll never be able to do it in the world!"
"That is to be seen," said Mr. Mann firmly. "Remember, we are working for the benefit of the Red Cross."
"Hear! Hear!" murmured Laura. "Perhaps Hester will do very well."
"And perhaps she won't!" snapped Bobby.
"Why, she can't possibly act!" Jess Morse said hopelessly.
"You will let me be the judge of that, Miss Morse, if you please," said Mr. Mann, speaking rather tartly.
"Mercy, everybody to-day is as crisp as pie-crust--no two ways about it!" whispered Bobby to Jess.
The girls plowed home through the deep snow, most of them in no mood for amusement. Even Laura Belding had a long face when she entered the house.
"How was the funeral?" asked Chet, who was buried in one of the deep library chairs with a book.
"What?" she asked before she caught his meaning.
"You must have buried somebody by the way you look," declared her brother.
"Don't nag, Chettie," sighed his sister. "We are having terrible times."
"I judged so," Chet said dryly. "Don't you always have sich when you girls go in for acting?"
"Now--"
"I am sympathetic, Laura--I swear I am!" her brother cried, putting up his hands for pardon. "Don't shoot. But of course things always will go wrong. Who is it--Bobby? Or Jess? Or Lil?"
"It is Hester Grimes."
"Wow!" exclaimed Chet. "I didn't know she was in it at all."
Laura told him of the emergency that had arisen and how Hester Grimes seemed certain to be drawn into the affair.
"Why, that big chunk can't act," said Chet quite impolitely. "She looks enough like her father to put on his apron and stand behind one of his butcher blocks."
"Oh, that is awful!" Laura objected. "But I know she will spoil our play."
"Humph! Why didn't you, Laura, suggest somebody else for the part, as long as Margit couldn't take it?"
"I didn't know of anybody."
"I thought they called you 'Mother Wit,'" scoffed Chet. "You're not even a little bit bright."
"No, I guess you are right. I have lost all my brightness," sighed Laura. "It has been rubbed off."
"Then you admit it was merely plate," laughed Chet. "But say! why didn't you think of the girl who helped you out before?"
"Who? What girl?"
"That Red Cross girl. What's her name?"
"Janet Steele!"
"That's the one. Some pippin," said Chet with enthusiasm. "I saw her this afternoon and helped her plow home--"
"Chetwood Belding! Wait till Jess Morse hears about it."
"Aw--"
"Jess will spark, old boy; you see if she doesn't"
"Jess is the best girl in the world; and she's got too much sense to object to my helping another girl home through the snow."
"All right," chuckled Laura, in a much more cheerful mood. "But don't make the mistake of praising Janet to Jess. That is where the crime comes in."
"Oh! Well, I won't," her brother declared thoughtfully.
"And where did you beau Janet from?" Laura asked.
"The hospital."
"Were you there to see that poor man?"
"Rich man, you mean," grinned her brother. "I took him some books and a lot of papers. He is able to sit up and read."
"But he doesn't know who he is?"
"He declares his name is John Something, and that he ought to be in Alaska right now. Says the last he knew he was in Sitka. Something happened to him there. Whatever it was, his brain must have been affected at that time. For he cannot remember anything about the first part of his life."
"But, Chetwood!" exclaimed Laura earnestly, "that man is not a miner. He is not tanned. His hands are not rough. He was as well groomed, the matron says, as any gentleman who ever was brought to the Centerport Hospital."
"But he was in Alaska. You should hear him tell about it."
"He has lived two lives, then," said Laura thoughtfully.
"And must be beginning his third now," put in Chet. "What do you know about that? And him with a roll of more than two thousand dollars--every bill brand-new."
"Oh, Chet!"
"Well, what is it?" her brother asked, looking curiously into Laura's suddenly glowing face.
"Does he know he has so much money?"
"Why, yes. I've been telling him to-day all about that funny bill he passed on me. He says he is glad he has so fat a purse, as he will be obliged to remain in bed long with that leg in a cast."
"But, Chet! has he got the money himself?"
"It is in the hospital safe."
"I wonder! I wonder!" the girl murmured.
"What is it now?" asked Chet
"I wonder if any other bills in his roll are like that hundred-fifty note father swapped with Mr. Monroe for you."
"Huh?" ejaculated her brother, quite puzzled.
"It was on the Drovers' Levee Bank, of Osage, Ohio. I wrote it down, and the names of the cashier and president of the bank. Do find out, Chet, if there are any more of those new bills issued by that bank in his roll."
"What for?" demanded Chet.
That Laura would not tell him, only made him promise to do as she asked. Mother Wit had an idea; but she would not explain it to anybody yet.