PREPARING FOR THE TRIP
Chet and Billie were at the train to meet Connie when she arrived, for it had been decided almost without argument that Connie would spend her one night in North Bend with the Bradleys.
Billie was in a fever of excitement even before the stream of people began to pour from the train, and when she saw Connie she made a wild dash for her that very nearly bowled over a couple of unfortunate men who were in the path.
“You darling!” cried Billie, hugging her friend rapturously. “Now I know it’s all true. I was just scared to death for fear something would happen and you couldn’t get here.”
Poor Chet tried his best to edge his way in and speak a word to Connie on his own account—for Chet liked Connie Danvers very much—but he could not do any more than shake hands with her over Billie’s shoulder and mumble one or two words which neither of the girls understood.
“They won’t speak to you,” he grumbled to himself as he brought up the rear with Connie’s suitcase and a hat box, “and the only time they know you’re alive is when they want a baggage truck or something. Catch me ever coming to meet one of Billie’s friends again.”
He was relieved when Vi and Laura came running up all flushed with their hurry to “spill over Connie” some more, as Chet disgustedly put it and he had a chance to slip down a side street and “beat it” for home.
None of the girls even noticed that Chet had gone; a fact which, had he known it, would have made the boy still more disgusted with girls and everything about them.
“Connie, you do look sweet,” Vi cried, as they all four tried to walk abreast along a sidewalk that was not very wide—the result being that Laura, who was on the end, walked half the time on the curb and the rest of the time in the gutter. “Is that a new hat? And, oh, I know you’ve got a new dress!”
“Well I’m not the only one who looks nice,” said Connie, who, in spite of her prettiness, was very modest.
“Oh, we are a mess,” said Laura, balancing nicely between the curb and the gutter. “We’ve got on our oldest dresses because everything we own is packed except the things we’re going to wear to-morrow.”
“To-morrow!” That was the magic word that unlocked the gates and let through a flood of conversation consisting of excited questions and answers and joyful exclamations that lasted until they reached Billie’s house.
Billie asked Laura and Vi in, but they reluctantly refused, saying that their mothers had expressly ordered them to be home that day in time for dinner.
“We can’t come over to-night,” Vi called back to them, as she and Laura started on arm in arm. “Mother says I have to get to bed early.”
“But we’ll see you the first thing in the morning,” added Laura. “The very first thing, remember that!”
“I’ll say so,” Billie sang back gayly, and then led her guest up the porch steps and into the house, where her mother was waiting to receive them. Mrs. Bradley and Connie fell in love with each other at first sight—which was the last thing needed to make Billie absolutely happy.
They went to bed early that night, the two girls snuggled in Billie’s pretty bird’s-eye maple bed in Billie’s pretty bird’s-eye maple room.
They went to bed, but neither of the girls had either the desire or the intention of going to sleep. They felt as if they never wanted to go to sleep again.
And so they talked. They talked of the next day and the vacation before them until they could not think of another thing to say about it.
Then they talked of the things that had happened at Three Towers Hall—of the “Dill Pickles” and of Amanda Peabody and Eliza Dilks. And last, but not least, they talked in hushed tones of the mysterious little hut in the woods and the strange man who lived there and wove fern baskets and other things for a living.
By the time they had reached Miss Arbuckle and the finding of her album in the woods they were feeling delightfully thrilly and farther away from sleep than ever.
“It really must be a mystery,” Connie was saying, snuggling deeper into the covers and staring at Billie’s pretty face and tousled hair weirdly illumined by the pale moonlight that sifted through the window, when there came a tap on the door. And right upon the tap came Mrs. Bradley, wearing a loose robe that made her look mysteriously lovely in the dim light. She sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded the girls smilingly.
“It’s twelve o’clock,” she said, and they stared at her unbelievingly. “Twelve o’clock,” she repeated relentlessly, “and time for girls who have to be up early in the morning to be asleep.”
“But we’re not sleepy,” protested Billie.
“Not a bit,” added Connie.
“Then it’s time you were,” she said, adding, with a little laugh: “If I hear a sound in here ten minutes from now, I’m coming after you with a broomstick. Remember,” she added, laughing back at them from the doorway, “I give you just ten minutes.”
“I think you’ve got just the loveliest mother,” sighed Connie, as she turned over obediently with her back to Billie; “but I’m sure I never can go to sleep.”
Five minutes passed, and the girls who could “never go to sleep,” felt their eyelids grow heavy and a delicious drowsiness steal over them. Once Connie roused herself enough to say sleepily: “We’ll just have to form that Detective Club, Billie, you know.”
“Yes,” said Billie, already half in the land of dreams. “When we—have—the time—good night, Connie——”
“Good night, Bil-lie——.”
And the next they knew it was morning! And such a glorious morning had never dawned before—of that they were sure.
Fat Deborah, nicknamed “Debbie,” who had been the cook in the Bradley family for years, and who thought that gave her the right to tell the whole family what was expected of them, from Billie up to Mr. Bradley himself, cooked them a breakfast of ham and eggs and cereal and toast and corn bread, grumbling to herself all the time.
For Debbie did not approve at all of “the young folks scamperin’ off jes’ so soon as dey gets back home agin.”
“Scand'lous, I calls it,” Debbie confided to the pan of corn bread she was busily cutting into golden brown pieces. “Don' know what Miz Bradley 'lows she’s thinkin’ on, nohow. But these am scand'lous days—they sho is.” Whereupon she put on a white apron and her dignity and marched into the dining room.
Yet in spite of her disapproval, Debbie gave the young “scalawags” the best breakfast she could make, and from the way the young “scalawags” did justice to it, one might have thought they did not expect to get any more to eat for a week at least.
Then they went upstairs to pack bags with the last minute things. Billie and Connie went over the whole list backward to be sure they had not forgotten a toothbrush “or something.” To them it was a very important list.
And when everything was done and their hats and coats on, they found to their dismay that they still had three-quarters of an hour to wait for the train.
“Goodness, why did Mother call us so early!” wailed Billie, sitting down on her suitcase and staring at Connie. “I can do anything but wait. But that I just can’t do!”
“Couldn’t we go over and call for Laura and Vi?” Connie suggested.
“My, they won’t be up yet,” said Billie hysterically, then chuckled at Connie’s look of dismay. “I didn’t mean quite that,” she said. “But Vi is always late.”
“Then I know we’d better go over!” said Connie, going over and giving her hat one last little pat before the mirror.
But Billie had walked over to the window, and now she called out excitedly.
“Here they come now,” she reported, adding with a chuckle: “And there’s poor Teddy in the rear carrying two suitcases and something that looks like a lunch box. Come on, let’s go down.”
And down they went, taking two steps at a time. Billie opened the door just as the two girls and Teddy came up the steps. Chet, who had run out, attracted by the noise, and was looking over Billie’s shoulder, caught sight of Teddy and the load he carried and emitted a whoop of joy.
“Hello, old moving van!” he called. “So they’ve got you doing it too, have they?”
Teddie set his load down on the steps and mopped his perspiring brow.
“Yes. And you’d better get busy yourself,” he retorted, adding as Chet seemed about to protest: “I’ve got some good news. Get your duds and I’ll tell it to you on the way to the station.”
That got Chet started in a hurry, and a few minutes later the young folks had said a loving good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Bradley, and were off, bag and baggage, for the station.
The girls’ trunks had been sent down the day before, so that all they had to do was to check them at the station. Connie, of course, had had her trunk checked right through to the station nearest their destination.
Chet clamored for Teddy’s news, and excitedly Teddy showed him the letter from Paul Martinson saying that the “old boat” would be ready to sail in a few days.
“Whoop!” cried Chet joyfully, trying to wave a suitcase in the air and nearly dropping it on his toe instead. “Say, girls, you may see us even before you hoped to.”
“Hoped to!” sniffed Laura. “Don’t you hate yourself?”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Billie, her eyes shining. “It will be a lark to have you boys drop in on us some morning when we don’t expect you. Oh, it’s just grand! We’ll be sure to be watching for all of you.”
The rejoicing was cut short by the arrival of the train a few minutes later. The girls scurried excitedly on board, the boys handing in their suitcases after them.
As the train started to move Teddy ran along the platform with it and suddenly thrust something into Billie’s hand.
“Look out for those currents,” he said. “They’re awfully dangerous.”
As he dropped back to join Chet, Billie looked down at the thing in her hand. It was a package of chocolate.