The Outdoor Girls Around the Campfire by Laura Lee Hope (top 10 best books of all time TXT) 📕
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“I like that red thing,” said Allen, suddenly, and Betty, looking at him, surprised, saw that he meant her dress.
She laughed and made an impudent little face at him.
“Thanks,” she said. “But it isn’t red. It’s American beauty.”
“Same thing,” said he, with masculine indifference to names. “It’s pretty anyway. I say, Betty,” after a pause, during which Betty’s gaze had been steadily averted from him, “am I forgiven?”
“For what?” she asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.
“For staying away. You know I wouldn’t have done it if I could have helped it.”
“I know that,” replied Betty, and then, as he leaned closer, went on hurriedly: “I’ve something to tell you, too. We’re going camping this summer.”
“We? Whom do you mean by we?” he asked, laughing.
“Whom should I mean?” retorted Betty. “Us Outdoor Girls, of course.”
“Oh, then I’m not invited——”
“If you want to come——”
“Betty——”
“Allen, if you won’t be sensible, I’ll—I’ll have to send you home, that’s all.”
At which threat Allen subsided, though Betty had an idea it would not be for long. She hurried on to tell him about the cabin at Rainbow Lake and the young lawyer was very much interested.
“Ought to be no end of fun,” he said. “I suppose you’ll wear sporting suits and sit around the campfire at night and fight off the wild animals——”
“There aren’t any wild animals,” protested Betty.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” disputed Allen, earnestly. “I’ve heard there are no end of man-eating critters around there. You’ll need some strong men—one strong man, at least—to protect you.”
“Don’t know any,” retorted Betty, flippantly, at which Allen only laughed indulgently.
“You just think you don’t,” he said.
And after awhile Mrs. Nelson called down, wanting to know if Allen had the correct time, and Allen, taking the hint, said good-by—or rather, he started to say good-by. To be exact, it took Betty just ten minutes by the clock to shoo him off the porch.
And after he was gone Betty sighed and looked up at the moon.
“It’s just ten-thirty,” she thought resentfully. “They might have let him stay a little longer!”
As they had agreed, the girls met the next day to make definite arrangements for their trip. Since the distance was only a few miles to the upper end of Rainbow Lake and they could go by water all the way, they decided to go in the Gem.
When Allen, a few nights later, heard of their decision he protested strenuously. Since the day the girls had so nearly collided with the General Pershing he had had a dread of letting Betty go anywhere in the motor boat.
However, as the girls had no idea whatever of allowing him to spoil their plans, they finally talked him down.
“The idea!” said Mollie, indignantly. “If you had seen Betty handle the boat that day you wouldn’t be afraid to let her go anywhere. I bet there isn’t one of you boys who could have done as well.”
As the three other boys, as well as Allen, were present, they protested vehemently, and it was an hour or more before quiet was restored.
However, it was eventually decided that the girls were to have their way, leaving for Rainbow Lake in about a week. A few days later, the boys would join them, bringing their tent and camping paraphernalia.
They were all tremendously excited over the plan, and the time they had set for the start seemed awfully far away. However, as Grace insisted she could not go a step without the right kind of clothing—she wanted one of the latest knicker suits—and since she was sure she could get a smarter outfit in Kayford, a neighboring town, than she could in Deepdale, the other girls were finally argued into agreeing to the delay.
“But one thing I do know,” Betty said at last. “If you go to Kayford for a knicker suit, we’re all going to Kayford too, and for the same purpose.”
“Suits me,” Grace had drawled. “We can go in Mollie’s car.”
And so it came about that on one fine morning a day or two later the Outdoor Girls climbed merrily into Mollie’s six and departed for Kayford.
It was a gorgeous day and the girls’ spirits matched the weather. It was always fun to go shopping anyway, and under the present circumstances it promised to be even more fun than usual.
Mollie’s car was running in fine form and it fairly ate up the miles between Deepdale and Kayford. They glided into the main street well before noon.
“We’ve plenty of time to shop before lunch,” cried Betty gayly. “And then we can go to that new little tea shop and get something good. I think I’ll have some chicken à la king.”
“Hear the child!” sighed Grace. “And it’s one whole hour to lunch time.”
Half of that hour they spent in buying knicker suits that fairly made them ache for the woods, if only for the joy of wearing them. Then, when they no longer had any excuse for lingering in the fascinating shop, they sauntered down Main Street toward the little restaurant of which Betty had spoken, looking in the store windows as they went.
As they were passing the Woman’s Exchange, Betty suddenly stopped and uttered a cry of delight.
“Girls,” she cried, going nearer to the show windows, as though drawn there irresistibly, “look at those embroideries. Did you ever see anything so perfectly stunning in your lives?”
THE LITTLE OLD LADY
Lured by the lovely, hand-embroidered centerpieces and doilies in the window, the girls entered the Woman’s Exchange.
“I’m going to see those stunning things close to,” declared Betty.
“I wonder if they are really hand-made,” said Amy, and Mollie sniffed.
“If they’re not, then I never saw a hand-made article in my life,” she said, positively.
“But that drawn-work!” marveled Grace. “I don’t see how it could be done by hand.”
“It looks to me like Danish embroidery,” said the Little Captain, thoughtfully. “Mother had a Danish maid once and she used to do the most exquisite embroidery I’ve ever seen.”
Upon inquiry they found that the embroideries were on the second floor of the building.
Dainty things of all sorts and descriptions lined the glass-fronted shelves—exquisite baby clothes and filmy dresses for older children, to say nothing of lovely things that would have fitted well in the wardrobes of the Outdoor Girls themselves.
“Oh, for a million dollars!” sighed Mollie, her eyes as wistful as a starving puppy when he sees a bone. “I believe I could spend it all without moving from this spot.”
“What good would those pretty things do us now?” Betty argued, reasonably. “We couldn’t possibly wear them on a camping trip. Come on, I see those embroideries over there.”
She half-dragged, half-led the reluctant girls over to the counter where reposed such exquisite creations of the embroiderers’ art that the girls fairly caught their breath.
A young woman hovered suggestively close to them, hoping, no doubt, to make a sale, but it was a long time before they realized her presence.
They handled the lovely things lovingly, exclaiming over them in awed tones.
“Wouldn’t mother like to have this centerpiece!” said Grace, softly. “I wish now I hadn’t spent so much of my allowance.”
“And this luncheon set,” sighed Betty, ecstatically, holding up a doily of such rare design and exquisite workmanship that it seemed more the fabric of a dream than anything else. “My birthday is coming pretty soon. I wonder if anybody here is bright enough to take a hint.”
“Rather give it to you for a wedding present,” suggested Mollie, wickedly.
Betty said nothing, merely bending closer over the lovely thing she held in her hand.
“I do believe it’s Danish work,” she said, and at that moment the alert young saleswoman spoke up.
“You’re right, Miss,” she said, looking as proud as though she herself were the maker of the luncheon set. “It is Danish embroidery of the finest sort—and hand work, every stitch of it. I’ve seen fine work in my day, but nothing that could equal that.”
“I believe you,” murmured Betty, adding, with a quick, upward look: “Do you happen to know the person who does this work?”
“Yes, indeed,” said the young woman briskly. It had been a slow morning and she was glad of the chance to talk to sympathetic listeners. “An old lady she was—as quaint an old soul as I ever saw. We were quite fond of her around here. Every Saturday morning she used to come in, often with some new piece, prettier than the last, to sell.”
“Why do you say she ‘used to come?’” asked Amy, gently. “Doesn’t she come any more?”
The young woman shook her head and a frown puckered her forehead.
“No, Miss, she doesn’t. And the worst of it is we don’t know what has become of her.”
“Didn’t you know where she lived?” asked Betty, with interest.
Again the young woman shook her head.
“Nor yet can we find anybody who does,” she said. “She was a queer old soul and she came and went as quietly as a mouse.”
“And you don’t even know her name?” asked Mollie, idly.
“No, Miss. You see,” the girl went on, warming to her subject, “she had been coming here so long with her beautiful work that we’d come to think of her as part of the Exchange—like a door, or something—somebody who would always be here. And we none of us knew how fond we were of the gentle old soul until she failed to show up. Even then we thought she’d turn up in a week or two, but she didn’t. We think now that maybe she’s dead. She was very old and feeble.”
“Too bad,” said Betty, her warm heart instantly touched. “Do you sell many of these?” she added, touching a piece of embroidery.
“Not so many,” returned the clerk. “You see the work is so rare that we have to charge a pretty good price for it. People come here and say how beautiful it is—and go away. And yet we can’t honestly sell it for any less. We promised the old lady a pretty good price for it, you see. It’s worth it.”
“Oh, dear,” murmured Grace, petulantly. “How unfortunate.”
“What’s the matter, now?” asked the Little Captain, politely.
“Oh,” said Grace, replacing the centerpiece she had been studying upon a little pile of pieces, “I had my mind set on buying that for mother’s birthday, but if it’s so very expensive I guess I can’t.”
“We might make a special price for you,” said the young saleswoman obligingly, and straightway they fell to bartering while the other girls moved away to study other articles of interest on the floor.
“I feel sorry for that old woman,” said Amy, absently staring at some filmy embroidered handkerchiefs. “It must be pretty bad to be old and friendless——”
“Well, I don’t see much use in our worrying about it,” said Mollie, briskly.
“There’s Grace with the centerpiece under her arm,” chuckled Betty. “Wonder how she did it.”
“By pretty near breaking herself I suppose,” said Mollie, adding ruefully: “What do you bet we have to treat her to lunch?”
But both Amy and Betty were too wise to bet on anything so sure to go against them, and in this way they proved their shrewdness. Once outside the store Grace confessed, not at all shamefacedly, that after buying the centerpiece the entire extent of her resources was twenty-five cents.
“That,” said Betty, with a twinkle, “will just about buy you one sandwich.”
“Have a heart,” protested Grace. “The way I feel one sandwich would just about whet my appetite.”
“Well, girls, I suppose we can’t see her starve,” sighed Betty, as they entered the tempting little tea shop, all white tables and blue walls.
“A blight on our soft hearts,” murmured Mollie, at which Betty and Amy giggled and Grace smiled sweetly. And the way she ordered from the delectable dishes on
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