A BAD CASE OF NERVES
“Would the boys have anything in their camp, do you suppose?” asked Bess, with a long sigh.
“Anything for what?” asked Lottie, as she looked surreptitiously into the mirror of her vanity box. Lottie was always worried about the effect of late hours.
“Is it something to eat?” asked Marita in her timid way. “If you want that, Bess, I’ll go over and help you carry it.”
“Gracious, I hope we don’t need anything in the food line,” said Cora. “I thought we stocked up with enough to last the rest of the week.”
“I want something for my nerves,” went on Bess. “They’re on the ragged edge, and I jump at every sound.”
“And no wonder,” agreed Belle, as she went over to a hammock suspended between two trees. “Get something for mine, while you’re at it, Bess. I think they use bromide, or something like that. But I doubt if the boys would have any. They don’t seem to have a nerve in their bodies, though goodness knows they’re ‘nervy’ enough at other times. Pardon the colloquialism,” she murmured as she sank back.
It was the morning after Freda’s return, and the night had been rather a troubled one. No one in the girls’ camp felt much like eating breakfast, though they managed to nibble at a bit of toast and drink some coffee.
The alarm about Freda had giver the motor girls the keenest anxiety, and while Jack and the boys tried to make Freda and the girls believe the woman and the telephone message had been a joke, it looked to be too serious a matter to be lightly passed off.
The odd woman who had met Freda at the country junction had shown, by her questions, that she knew much about the disputed property. And her manner had been, in a way, rather threatening. It was too unusual to have been accidental, at any rate.
But Freda had reached home in safety. The motor girls were glad of that, but they were all suffering from a bad case of nerves, though, so far, Bess and Belle had been the only ones to admit it openly.
“I wouldn’t take any of that bromide, if I were you, Bess,” said Cora, as she straightened out some of the things in the living room. The usually homelike apartment had taken on a most woebegone appearance since the previous night. Everyone had left everything just where she had happened to let it fall.
“But I’ve got to do something!” declared the plump twin. “My hand shakes—see, I can’t hold it still,” and in proof she held it out.
“It does shake,” spoke Marita, in an awed whisper. “Maybe she had better have a doctor.”
“Doctor! Nonsense!” laughed Belle. “Her hand trembles because she had her arm up so long this morning, trying to do her hair up that new way. Sit down, Bess, and you’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
“But I can’t sit still, that’s the trouble. I’m so nervous!” and Bess hastily arose from a chair in which she had seated herself, and began pacing up and down the broad bungalow porch.
“I have an idea!” exclaimed Cora.
“Don’t let it die of lonesomeness,” suggested Belle, with a laugh. “Think up another and have a pair of ideas.”
“I will,” replied Cora, promptly. “I think if we go out for a little spin in the boat it will do us all good. It’s a lovely day—too lovely to let our nerves get the best of us. What do you say?”
“I’ll do anything rather than sit here and think of what might have happened,” sighed Bess.
“Oh, you’re taking it entirely too seriously,” put in Lottie, as she used a buffer on her already pink and polished nails. “What could have happened?”
“Why, they might have taken Freda away!”
“Who would?”
“Those persons—men or women—or both—who are trying to get possession of the Lewis property. And, in a way, we might have been involved,” went on Bess.
“I don’t see how,” observed Cora.
“Why, we’ve given advice to Freda and her mother, and if things went wrong some persons might say we had an object in it.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Belle. “You’ve surely got a case of nerves, all right. Come on, let’s do as Cora says and take a trip on the water.” She got out of the hammock—Belle could accomplish this difficult feat more gracefully than anyone else, Cora always said.
Then they all went down to the little dock where the Chelton was tied, and Cora, with a quickness born of long experience, ascertained that there was plenty of gasoline and oil in the craft. She tested the vibrator and found the current good, though at times, when not suffering from a fit of stubbornness, the engine had been known to start with the magneto. But it was not safe to depend on it.
“Are you all ready?” asked Cora.
“I guess so,” answered Bess. “I guess I won’t have to have bromide, after all. I feel better already.”
“I thought you would,” laughed Cora. “Marita, just straighten out that stern flag, will you? Thank you. You’re a dear!”
“Look out!” laughed Belle. “When Cora begins calling names there is no telling when she will stop.”
“Don’t worry,” was Cora’s answer, as she stooped over to crank the motor. It started on the first turn and soon the Chelton was chugging a course over the sun-lit waters of Crystal Bay.
“Do you see anything of the boys?” asked Cora, as she turned to the others from her place at the steering wheel.
“No, there’s their boat—at least Jack’s apology for one—tied to the stake,” said Lottie. “Does that boat ever go out two days in succession, Cora?”
“I don’t believe it does,” answered Jack’s sister. “It was a sort of makeshift, anyhow. Jack only got her running because someone said it couldn’t be done—it was a sort of dare. But the poor old boat seems to suffer from some intermittent fever. It runs one day and rests the next.”
“And the Dixie—she’s resting, too,” went on Bess, as she looked down the bay to where Dray Ward’s fine racing craft was moored. “The boys are not around yet.”
“Probably sleeping,” murmured Belle. “The indolent creatures!”
“Folks who live in glass houses—and all the rest of it,” said Cora. “It’s nearly eleven, and we haven’t been long away from the breakfast table ourselves.”
“It’s a case of carrying coals to Newcastle; isn’t it?” asked Lottie, drying with her filmy handkerchief a drop of water on her dress.
“You mean the pot calling the kettle black,” laughed Cora. Lottie never could get her proverbs just right.
“Oh, well, it’s all the same as long as there’s black in it,” responded Lottie. “I knew I had part of it right.”
On went the Chelton, and she had that part of the bay all to herself for the time being. A little breeze ruffled the water, and the sun shone brightly. Under these calming influences of nature the girls—even nervous Bess—felt themselves growing calm, and at peace with the world. The trouble of the night before seemed to melt away, and assume a less sinister aspect. But Cora could not get over the feeling that something akin to a tragedy had nearly happened.
“And it may again,” she thought. “I do wish we could help Freda and her mother, but I don’t see how. Land troubles are always so complicated.”
As Cora turned the wheel and swung the boat about in a wide circle, she was aware of another craft coming toward her. She did not remember having seen it before, and as it drew nearer she noted that it contained but a single occupant—a young man, who, as Lottie said afterward, was not at all bad-looking.
The young fellow guided his boat closer to the Chelton, and after she had done making mental notes of the new craft’s characteristics, Cora had an idea that the stranger wanted to speak to them. Such evidently was his intention, for he slowed down his engine, so as to muffle the noise of the exhaust, and called out:
“On which point is Bayhead, if you please?”
“Over there,” answered Cora, pointing to a promontory that jutted out into the bay. “But be careful and go well out when you round it. There are some dangerous rocks at low tide. How much do you draw?”
“Thirty-four inches.”
“That’s too much to try the short cut.”
“Thank you for telling me,” went on the young man. He certainly was good-looking. Even Cora, conservative as she always was, had to admit that.
“We are going over that way,” went on Cora. “If you like, I will pilot you.”
“You are very good,” returned the young man. “If it will not be too much trouble, and not take you out of your way, I would like very much to have you show me the course. I’m a stranger here.”
Cora and the motor girls had been on so many trips on land and water that they had learned how to meet and accept the advances of strangers, even when they were good-looking young men. There was, too, a sort of comradeship about a motor boat that lent a chaperonage to the effect of girls talking to men to whom they had never been introduced. Cora’s chums realized this and thought nothing of her offer.
“Follow me,” Cora called, as she opened the throttle a little wider, and the Chelton shot ahead. The other boat came right after, with a promptness that caused Cora to think it had more speed than she at first suspected.
“My nerves are much better—now,” said Bess in a whisper to Lottie, as she stole a surreptitious glance at the young man.