Rilla of the Lighthouse

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER XXIX. JOY KIERSEY.

  That had been the first of many hours of practice on the tennis courts.Running races with Shags and rowing had been the only two outdoor sportsMuriel had known. For that reason, perhaps, she thoroughly enjoyedtennis, and how her friends did enjoy watching her.

  Every afternoon from four to five o'clock they had the court tothemselves, that being the hour when Marianne Carnot was practicing hervocal lessons on the other side of the school. These three friends didnot wish Marianne to even suspect that Muriel was being drilled. Not thatthey had any hope of winning the game, which was but a fortnight away. Infact, it would be unwise to permit so new a player as Muriel to even takepart, they decided. Joy Kiersey, who usually played with CatherineLambert, had been ill, and was not yet strong enough to practice,although she assured the girls that she would not fail them on the day ofthe tournament.

  "We have a strong team," Faith told Muriel one noon at lunch, "when Joyis with us, but not so strong when she isn't."

  "I haven't met Joy Kiersey as yet, have I?" Rilla said this slowly,thoughtfully, and hence more correctly.

  Faith was pleased, but made no comment. "No," she replied. "Joy did notreturn at the beginning of the term, and although she has been in HighCliffs for a week now, she remains in her room most of the time. Wethought that we would call upon her this afternoon during the freeperiod, and I planned asking you to accompany us."

  Muriel shook her head. "Don't," she said. Then twinkles appeared in herclear hazel eyes. "I dunno how to make a call. We haven't had that yet inpoliteness."

  Faith, however, did not smile. "This afternoon, dear, you follow me anddo just what I do and then, at least, you will be as correct a guest as Iam."

  "Miss Gordon said that we might go," Gladys leaned forward to remark,"and Joy is eager to have a real visit with us."

  "We haven't had an opportunity since she came to confer about the game."This from Catherine.

  "Maybe she'd ruther I didn't come."

  Faith looked reproachfully at her friend, then said softly that no oneelse might hear: "Rilla, you are forgetting our new rule. Think asentence before you say it."

  Muriel flashed a bright smile at the speaker, thought a moment, thenrepeated: "Perhaps your friend, Joy Kiersey, would rather that I did notcome."

  "Not so, Rilla." Faith was glad to be able to add truly: "Joy askedespecially about you. She was watching us yesterday as we returned fromthe court and she inquired who you were, and what do you suppose shesaid?"

  "I can't guess. Something dreadful, like's not--I mean--I suppose."

  "Not a bit of it! Joy asked who the girl was who carried herself asthough she were a princess."

  Muriel looked blank. "Who was she talking about? If 'twas me, then shewas just makin' fun."

  "No, dear. Joy wouldn't do that. You don't realize it, of course, butthere are times when you carry yourself, shall I say proudly? Or----"Faith hesitated, groping for a word, then laughingly confessed, "I don'tknow just how to express it."

  "As though she had a family tree like Adelaine Stuart," Gladys put in.

  Muriel laughed; then said earnestly: "I come from a long line of good,honest New England seafaring folk and I'm proud of it. My grand-dad stooderect, the way I suppose you mean that I do. Summer folk often spoke ofit. I remember one man visitin' the light said grand-dad was like aViking. Queer how I remembered that word all this time. I suppose becauseI wondered what it meant."

  "Oh, I know all about Vikings," Gladys boasted. "Listen and you shallhear. Between the eighth and eleventh centuries the coasts of the BritishIsles were visited by the Norsemen, called Vikings, or sea-rovers, whocontributed much to the romantic history of medieval Europe."

  "My! What a lot we know," Catherine Lambert teased as she beamed acrossthe table, and Gladys merrily retorted: "Well, why shouldn't I know ittoday, since I only learned it yesterday. But don't ask me anything aboutit next week."

  Then, as the signal was given, the girls arose and left the dining hall.

  Little did Muriel guess that these dear friends had planned the call uponJoy that she might have an actual experience that would fit her for thedreaded class in politeness.

  The afternoon tea was a delightful affair. Joy, who seemed to Muriel tobe the embodiment of loveliness, welcomed them to her sunny,flower-filled room with a graciousness which at once won the heart of theisland girl.

  "Miss Joy Kiersey, may I present my friend Miss Muriel Storm?" was theform of introduction chosen.

  "I am indeed glad to make the acquaintance of so dear a friend of ourFaith," was the sincere response as Joy extended her hand and claspedthat of the new member of their little clan. "Now, everybody find a placeto curl up somewhere and let's chat for half an hour while the kettleboils. Dear Miss Gordon granted a special dispensation today and yonderon the tea table is seen the flame of my alcohol lamp that will soonpersuade the tiny teakettle to start its song."

  "Oh, what an adorable teakettle that is! I love copper things, don't you,Muriel?" Gladys exclaimed, forgetting for the moment that the island girlmight not be familiar with things antique. Faith replied for her friend,then added: "Joy's latest hobby, it is quite evident, is collectingbaskets. You have a dozen new ones, I do believe."

  Their hostess nodded, and pointing to a large, round and nearly flatbasket lying near the hearth: "I found that in Nevada last summer when wewere visiting Lake Tahoe. It was made by the Washoe Indians and I thinkthat I prize it most of all, and yet that Washoe water bottle on themantel is interesting as a curiosity."

  After the bottle-shaped basket had been admired Gladys asked: "Did youfind people different in the West?"

  "I like the real Westerner," Joy replied, "but there was one thing thatwas always like a discord to me, and that was the manner of introductionused by many of them. They say, 'Meet my friend.' It is so harsh and soabrupt. If they would say, 'I would like you to meet my friend,' it wouldseem more gracious."

  Muriel, listening, resolved that she would never use that crude form ofintroduction.

  "Hark!" Catherine Lambert said softly. "I hear a voice calling to us."

  Joy uncurled from the big chair which the girls had insisted that sheoccupy. "Oh, the little copper teakettle is singing." Then to Faith,"Will you pour today, Miss Morley?"

  No one looked at Muriel, and as she did in all things as her friends did,the serving of tea and wafers passed without a mishap.

  When the bell in the corridor announced the hour of five o'clock Faithrose. "Time to depart," she said. Then to their hostess, "Joy, I am soglad that you are better. We have had a delightful time at your tea partyand shall hope to see you soon in Pickle Pantry."

  This was the name that Faith jokingly gave the room that she shared withGladys, for that maiden being extremely fond of sweet pickles, always hada bottle of them stowed away in most unexpected places.

  "Girls," Joy said remorsefully, "we haven't made a single plan for thegame. However, I'll be at the court tomorrow at four."

  As Faith and Muriel ascended the stairs toward the cupola room, whitherthey were going for a half-hour review of spelling, the former asked:"Isn't Joy a dear?"

  "I love her," Muriel said. Then she asked: "Are you sure she is real?"

  Faith turned with puzzled eyes. "Real? Do you mean sincere?"

  The island girl shook her head. "No, indeed, I know she is that! I meanthat she looks like the gold and white fairy folk Uncle Barney used totell about--and they always disappeared."

  Faith smiled. "Joy is our Dresden China girl, and, oh, Muriel, how I dohope she will grow strong. Her mother took her West last year believingthe invigorating air of the Rockies would help her; but even now shehasn't the strength that we who love her desire. The world has need ofgirls like our Joy," she concluded.

  Joy Kiersey, to the delight of her friends, appeared at the court nextafternoon. Her soft, golden hair was like an aureole of sunshine abouther head, for when sh
e began to play she tossed her pale blue tam on abench, where earlier she had flung her sweater-coat of the same color.

  Joy and Catherine played singles for a while, the two being the expertsof the team. Faith, Gladys and Muriel sat nearby watching with admiringeyes.

  Time after time Joy was able to smash a ball over the net in such amanner that it fell dead before Catherine could return it.

  "That's our only hope," Faith confided to Muriel, "that play of Joy's!It's a trick that her Harvard brother taught her and, watch as closely aswe may, we cannot acquire it. Her brother, it seems, made Joy promisethat she would not teach it to the other girls unless it might be in anemergency of some kind."

  "If Marianne Carnot and Adelaine Stuart are to play against Joy andCatherine," Muriel said, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm, "they willhave to be wonderful players to win."

  "You would think so," Gladys chimed in, "but you have never seen Mariannerun. She seems to be everywhere at once. It doesn't matter on what partof the court we place a ball, there that French girl is, ready to returnit, often with a volley, and her aim is true. However, Joy does excel inthe smash stroke, and so, if she is strong enough to play, we may win."

  Soon Joy declared that she wanted to rest and watch while the othersplayed.

  Faith buttoned the girl who had been ill into her blue sweater-coat andthen wrapped a soft golden scarf about her, although Joy declared thatshe did not need it. "You're warm now," Faith told her, "but there's adecided nip in the air today, and we must be careful of our champion."

  At first Muriel was self-conscious, for she knew that Joy's sweet blueeyes were watching her, not critically but with interest.

  Suddenly, however, her attention was attracted by the falling of the ballon the extreme opposite side of the court. Of course Catherine would runfor it, Muriel thought, but when she saw that maiden slip, Muriel ran asthough her feet were shod with the wings of the wind. Over the net theball went and Catherine was ready to volley it back when Gladys returnedit.

  Joy wanted to shout her delight. How she longed to sing out: "Girls,Marianne may be able to run, but Muriel flies!" But, instead she keptvery quiet. She saw that the island girl was beginning to forget herself,and she did not wish to say anything that would cause herself-consciousness to return.

  Soon Joy realized that she had over-estimated her own strength, for asense of weariness was creeping over her. She rose, meaning to tell thegirls that she had better go to her room, but she fell back on the bench,her face pale. Joy had fainted. Faith, rebuking herself for havingpermitted the frail girl to play at all, was quickly at her side, as werethe others.

  Joy soon opened her eyes and found her head resting on Faith's shoulder.

  "I'm sorry if I frightened you," she said. Then with a sigh sheconcluded: "I guess I'll have to give up trying to play in thetournament."

  "Never mind, Joy dear. We would far rather have you regain your strengthslowly than win all of the tennis honors that could come to us," Faithassured her.

  With the assistance of loving arms, Joy returned to the school and wassoon made comfortable in her padded blue silk kimono. Muriel and Gladysbrought wood and made a fire on the hearth, while Catherine wentkitchenward to fill the copper teakettle with boiling water.

  The next day Joy felt as well as she had before, but the girls wereunanimous in declaring that she must not play tennis again until spring.Then it was that Joy made a resolution.