CHAPTER XIV
THE MOONSHINERS' BACON-ROAST
Jean's sudden retirement from the cast of "The Merchant of Venice" wasthe subject of a good deal of excited conjecture during the few daysthat remained of the winter term. Betty explained it briefly to Barbara,who in turn confided Jean's story to the rest of her committee. All ofthem but Clara Ellis thought better of Jean than they ever had beforefor the courage she had shown in owning herself in the wrong. TeddieWilson, being in Jean's French division, remembered her letter from thelast year's girl and made a shrewd guess at the true state of affairs;but realizing just how sorely Jean had been tempted she was generousenough not to ask any questions or tell anybody what she thought. So theHarding world was divided in its opinions, one party asserting thatJean's acting had proved a disappointment, the other declaring that shehad wanted to manage the whole play, and finding that she couldn't hadresigned her part in it. Jean herself absolutely refused to discuss thesubject, beyond saying that she was tired and had found it necessary todrop something, and she was so sarcastic and ill-tempered that even herbest friends began to let her severely alone. Toward Eleanor her mannerwas as contemptuous as ever, and she kept haughtily aloof from Betty.But one day when two of the Hill girls, gossiping in her room, made someslighting remarks about Betty's prominence in class affairs, Jeanflashed out an indignant protest.
"She's one of the finest girls in 19--, and if either of you amounted toa third as much, you could be proud of it. No, I don't like her at all,but I admire her immensely, so please choose somebody else to criticisewhile you're in here."
Meanwhile the winter term had ended, the spring vacation come and gone,and the lovely spring term was at full tide in Harding. If you were afreshman, it made you feel sleepy and happy and utterly regardless ofthe future terrors of the conditioned state in comparison with thepresent joys of tennis and canoeing or the languorous fascination of ahammock on the back campus,--where one goes to study and remains todream. If you were a senior it made a lump come in your throat,--thefleeting loveliness of this last spring term, when all the trials ofbeing a Harding girl are forgotten and all the joys grow dearer thanever, now that they are so nearly past.
"But it's not going to be any daisy-picking spring-term for 19--," BobParker announced gaily to a group of her friends gathered for anafter-luncheon conference on the Westcott piazza. "Isn't that a niceexpression? Miss Raymond used it in class this morning. She wanted toremind us, she said, that the Harding course is four full years long.Then she gave out a written lesson on Jane Austen for Friday."
"What a bother!" lamented Babbie, who hadn't elected English novelists."Now I suppose we can't have either the Moonshiners' doings or the'Merry Hearts' meeting on Thursday."
"Who on earth are the Moonshiners?" asked Katherine Kittredge curiously.
"Learn to ride horseback and you can be one," explained Babbie."They're just a crowd of girls, mostly seniors, who like to ridetogether in the cool of the evening and make a specialty of moonlight.We're going to have a bacon-roast the first moonlight night thateverybody can come."
"Which will be the night after never," declared Madeline Ayres sagely.
"What's the awful rush about that bacon-roast?" asked Babe. "I shouldthink it would be nicer to wait awhile and have it for a sort of grandend-up to the riding season."
"Why, there isn't but one more moon before commencement," explainedBabbie, "and if we wait for that it may be too hot. Who wants to go on abacon-roast in hot weather?"
"The 'Merry Hearts' are going to decide about passing on the society,aren't they?" asked Rachel. "That's a very important matter and we oughtto get it off our hands before too many other things come up. Girls, doyou realize that commencement is only five weeks off?"
"Oh, please don't begin on that," begged Babe, who hated sentiment andwas desperately afraid that somebody would guess how tear-y she feltabout leaving Harding. "I'll tell you how to settle things. Let's goover all the different afternoons and evenings and see which ones arevacant. Most of the 'Merry Hearts' are here and several Moonshiners. Wecan tell pretty well what the other girls have on for the differentdays."
"I'll keep tab," volunteered Katherine, "because I belong to only one ofthese famous organizations. Shall I begin with to-morrow afternoon? Whocan't come then to a 'Merry Hearts' meeting?"
"We can't. Play committee meets," chanted Rachel and Betty together.
"Mob rehearsal from four to six," added Bob.
"Helen Adams has to go to a conference with the new board of editors,"put in Madeline. "I heard her talking to Christy about it. It beginsearly and they're going to have tea."
"To-morrow evening--Moonshiners' engagements please," said Katherinebriskly.
"Class supper committee meets to see about caterers," cried Babe. "Wecan't put it off either. Last year's class has engaged Cuyler'salready,--the pills! That committee takes out me and Nita and AliceWaite."
"Rehearsal of the carnival dance in the play," added Babbie promptly,"and Jessica, alias me, has to go."
"Thursday as I understand it is to be devoted to picking, not daisies,but the flowers of Jane Austen's thought for Miss Raymond." Katherinelooked at Babbie for directions. "Shall I go on to Friday afternoon?"
"Class meeting," chanted several voices at once.
"It won't be out a minute before six," declared Bob. "We've got to electthe rest of our commencement performers----"
"Which isn't very many," interposed Madeline.
"Well, there'll be reports from dozens and dozens of committees,"concluded Bob serenely, "and there'll be quantities of things todiscuss. 19-- is great on discussions."
"In the evening," Betty took her up, "Marie is going to assign thejunior ushers to the various functions, and she's asked most of us toadvise her about it, hasn't she?"
Several girls in the circle nodded.
"Then we come to Saturday," proclaimed Katherine. "Evening's out, Iknow, for Dramatic Club's open meeting."
"I'm on the reception committee," added Betty. "We shall have to trim upthe rooms in the afternoon."
"All the play people have rehearsals Saturday."
"Saturday seems to be impossible," said Katherine. "How about Mondayafternoon?"
"The Ivy Day committee has a meeting," announced Rachel in apologetictones. "But don't mind me, if the rest can come then."
"The Prince of Morocco has a special audience granted him by MissKingston for Monday at five," said Madeline. "But don't mind him."
"Dear me," laughed Betty. "I hadn't any idea we were such busy ladies.Is everybody in 19-- on so many committees, do you suppose?"
"Of course not, simple child," answered Bob. "We're prominentseniors,--one of the leading crowds in 19--. I heard Nan Whipple callus to a freshman that she had at dinner last Sunday."
"And all of us but Madeline work early and late to keep up theposition," added Babbie grandly.
"The Watson lady is an idler too," put in Madeline, with quick tact,remembering that Eleanor had mentioned no engagements. "We're content tobask in the reflected glory of our friends, aren't we, Eleanor?"
Eleanor nodded brightly and Babbie returned to the matter in hand. "Weshall never get a date this way," she declared. "Let's put all the daysof next week after Monday into Bob's cap. The first one that K. drawsout will be the 'Merry Hearts' afternoon; and the next the Moonshiners'evening. Those that can't come at the appointed times will have to stayat home."
Everybody agreed to this, and Madeline gallantly sacrificed a leaf fromher philosophy note-book to write the days on.
"Friday," announced Katherine, drawing out a slip, "and Thursday."
"Those are all right for me," said Madeline.
"And for me."
"Same here."
"And here."
"We'd much better have drawn lots in the first place," said Babbie. "Nowif it only doesn't rain on Thursday and spoil the full moon! Tell theothers, won't you, girls? I'm due at the Science Building this veryminute."
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sp; It didn't rain on Thursday. Indeed the evening was an ideal one for along gallop, with an open-air supper to follow. This was to be cookedand eaten around a big bonfire that would take the chill off the springair and keep the mosquitoes at a respectful distance. Most of theMoonshiners belonged to the Golf Club, and they had gotten permission tohave their fire in a secluded little grove behind the course. Babbie,who had organized the Moonshiners and was their mistress of ceremonies,held many secret conferences with Madeline Ayres and the two spent along afternoon sewing behind locked doors, on some dark brown stuff,which Babbie subsequently tied into a big, untidy parcel and carried upto Professor Henderson's. So the Moonshiners expected a "feature" inaddition to the familiar delights of a bacon-roast, and they turned outin such numbers that Bob had to ride a fat little carriage horse andBabbie bravely mounted the spirited mare "Lady," who had frightened herso on Mountain Day. But there was no storm this time to agitate Lady'snerves, and they kept clear of the river and the ferries; so everythingwent smoothly and the Moonshiners cantered up to the Club house at halfpast eight in the highest possible spirits.
They could see the grove as they dismounted and every one but Babbie wassurprised to find the fire already lighted. The dishes and provisionshad been carried out in big hampers in the afternoon, and the woodgathered, so there was nothing to do now but stroll over to the fire andbegin.
"Why, somebody's there," cried Betty suddenly. She was walking aheadwith Alice Waite. "I can see two people. They're stooping over the fire.Why, Alice, it's two dear little brown elves."
"Just like those on my ink-stand," cried Alice, excitedly. "How queer!"
Everybody had seen the picturesque little figures by this time, and thefigures in their turn had spied the riding-party and had begun to dancemerrily in the fire-light. They were dressed in brown from head to foot,with long ears on their brown hoods and long, pointed toes curling up atthe ends of their brown shoes. They looked exactly like the little ironfigures of brownies that every Harding girl who kept up with theprevailing fads had put on her desk that spring in some useful orornamental capacity. They danced indefatigably, pausing now and then toheap on fresh wood or to poke the fire into a more effective blaze, andlooking, in the weird light, quite fantastic enough to have come out ofthe little hillside behind the fire, tempted to upper earth by themoonlight and the great pile of dry wood left ready to their hands. Fora few minutes after the Moonshiners' arrival the trolls resolutelyrefused to speak.
"'Cause now you'll know we ain't real magic," explained Billy Hendersonindignantly, when his chum had fallen a victim to Bob's wiles anddisclosed his identity.
The fire was so big and so hot by this time that it threatened to burnup the whole grove, so the small boys were persuaded to devote theirenergies to toasting thin slices of bacon, held on the ends of longsticks, and later to help pass the rolls and coffee that went with thebacon, and to brown the marshmallows, which, with delicious littlenut-cakes, made up the last course.
The Moonshiners had spent so much time admiring Babbie's brownies thatthey had to hurry through the supper and even so it bid fair to be afterten before they reached the campus. Betty, Bob, and Madeline happened toget back to the horses first and were waiting impatiently for the restto come when Bob made a suggestion.
"Mr. Ware is helping stamp out the fire. Let's get on and start for homeahead of the others. Then we can let most of them in if they're late.Our matron will rage if she catches us again this week."
"All right," agreed Madeline. "Mr. Ware said he had told a man to be atthe Westcott, ready to take some of the horses. Let's not tell any one.They'll be so surprised to find three horses gone."
"We shall have to hurry then," whispered Betty. "They'll be here anyminute."
"On second thought," said Madeline, "I don't believe I can pick out myown horse. It's inky dark here under the trees." Madeline had ridden allher life but she seldom went out at Harding, and so hadn't a regularmount, like most of the other Moonshiners.
"Of course you can, Madeline," scoffed Betty. "You rode Hero, that bigblack beast hitched to the last post, next to my horse. Don't youremember tying him there?"
Bob backed her sturdy cob out from between two restless companions, andwith much laughter and whispering and many injunctions to hurry and tobe "awfully still," the three conspirators mounted and walked theirhorses quietly down the drive.
"My stirrups seem a lot too long," Betty whispered softly, as theypassed down the avenue, dusky with the shadows of tall elms. "Whoa,Tony! Wait just a minute, girls. Why--oh, Bob, Madeline,--I've got thewrong horse. Somebody must have changed them around. This is Lady."
Whether it was Betty's nervous clutch on the reins as she made this dirediscovery and remembered Lady's antics on the ferry-boat, or whether thesaucy little breeze which chose that moment to stir the elm branches andset the shadows dancing on the white road, was responsible, is a matterof doubt. At any rate Lady jerked back her pretty head impatiently, asif in answer to her name, shivered daintily, reared, and ran. She dodgedcat-like, between Bob and Madeline and out through the narrow gateway,turned sharply to the right, away from Harding, and galloped off up thelevel road that lay white in the moonlight, between the Golf Club and apine wood half a mile away.
Betty had presence of mind enough to dig her knees into Lady's sides,and so managed somehow, in spite of her mis-fit stirrups, to stay on atthe gate. She tugged hard at the reins as Lady flew along, and murmuredsoothing words into Lady's quivering ears. But it wasn't any use. Bettyhad wondered sometimes how it felt to be run away with. Now she knew. Itfelt like a rush of cold wind that made you dizzy and faint. Youthought of all sorts of funny little things that happened to you agesago. You wondered who would plan Jessica's costumes if anything happenedto you. You wished you weren't on so many committees; it would botherMarie so to appoint some one in your place. You made a neat little listof those committees in your mind. Then you got to the pine wood, andsomething did happen, for Lady went on alone.
Madeline, straining her eyes at the gateway, waiting for Bob and Mr.Ware to come, couldn't see that.
"She was still on the last I could see," she told them huskily, and Mr.Ware whipped his horse into a run and rushed after Lady.
Madeline looked despairingly at Bob. "Let's go too," she said. "I can'tstand it to wait here."
"All right."
They rode fast, but it seemed ages before they got to the pines. Mr.Ware was galloping far ahead of them.
"If she's gone so far she'll slow up gradually on that long hill,"suggested Bob, trying to speak cheerfully.
"Isn't it--pretty--stony?" asked Madeline.
"Yes, but after she'd run so far she wouldn't try to throw Betty."
"Suppose we wait here. Oh, Bob, what shall we do if she's badly hurt?"
"She can't be," said Bob with a thick sob. "Please come on, Madeline.I've got to know if she's----" Bob paused over the dreadful word.
There was a little rustling noise in the bushes beside the road. "DidMr. Ware have a dog?" asked Madeline.
"No," gulped Bob.
"There's something down there. Who's there?" called Madeline fearlessly,and then she whistled in case Bob had been mistaken about the dog.
"It's I--Betty Wales," answered a shaky little voice, with a reassuringsuggestion of mirth in it. "I'm so glad somebody has come. I'm down herein a berry-patch and I can't get up."
Madeline was off her horse by this time, pushing through the briarsregardless of her new riding habit.
"Where are you hurt, dear?" she asked bending over Betty and speakingvery gently. "Do you suppose you could let me lift you up?"
Betty held out her arms, with a merry laugh. "Why, of course I could.I'm not one bit hurt, except scratched. The ferns are just as soft as afeather bed down here, but the thorns up above are dreadful. I can'tseem to pull myself up. I'm a little faint, I guess."
A minute later she was standing in the road, leaning against Madeline,who felt of her anxiously and asked again and ag
ain if it didn't hurt.
"Hasn't she broken her collar-bone?" asked Bob, who was holding thehorses. "People generally do when they have a bad spill. Are her armsall right?"
"I suppose I didn't know how to fall in the proper way," explainedBetty, wearily. "I can't remember how it happened, only all at once Ifound myself down on those ferns with my face scratched and smarting. IfMr. Ware went by ahead of you I suppose I must have been stunned, for Ididn't see him."
"He's probably hunting distractedly for you on the hill," said Bob, gladto have something definite to do. "I think he's caught Lady, and I'll goand tell him that we've caught you."
Just then Professor Henderson's surrey drove up. It had come for Billy,and Babbie had thoughtfully sent it on to bring back "whoiver's hurted,"the groom explained. But he made no objection to taking in Betty,though, rather to Billy's disappointment, she did not come under thatcategory.
"I never saw a broken arm, ner a broken leg, ner a broken anything," hemurmured sleepily. "I thought I'd have a chance now. Say, can I pleaseput my head in your lap?"
"My, but your knees wiggle something awful," Billy complained a minutelater. "Don't you think they're cracked, maybe?"
So Madeline put the sleepy elves in front with the driver and got inherself beside Betty. Curled up in Madeline's strong arms she cried alittle and laughed a good deal, never noticing that Madeline was crying,too. For just beyond the berry-patch there was a heap of big stones,which made everything that Bob and Madeline had feared in that dreadfultime of suspense seem very reasonable and Betty's escape from harmlittle short of a miracle.
It was striking eleven when the riding party and the surrey turned upthe campus drive and the B's noticed with dismay that the Westcott wasbrilliantly lighted.
"I know what's happened," wailed Babe. "Our beloved matron has found usmissing and she's hunting for us under the beds and in all the closets,preparatory to calling in the police. Never mind! we've got a goodexcuse this time."
But the Westcott was not burning its lights to accommodate the matron.The B's had not even been missed. Katherine met them in the hall andbarely listened to their excited accounts of their evening's adventure.
"There's been plenty doing right here, too," she said.
"What?" demanded the three.
"College thief again, but this time it's a regular raid. For some reasonnearly everybody was away this evening, and the ones who had anythingto lose have lost it--no money, as usual, only jewelry. Fay Ross thinksshe saw the thief, but--well, you know how Fay describes people. You'dbetter go and see what you've lost."
Luckily the thief had neglected the fourth floor this time, so they hadlost nothing, but they sat up for an hour longer, consoling their lessfortunate friends, and listening to Fay's account of her meeting withthe robber.
"I'm pretty sure I should know her again," she declared, "and I'mperfectly sure that I've seen her before. She isn't very tall nor verydark. She's big and she looks stupid and slow, not a bit like a craftythief, or like a college girl either. She had a silk bag on her arm. Iwish I'd asked her what was in it."
But naturally Fay hadn't asked, and she probably wouldn't see the thiefsoon again. Next morning Emily Lawrence telegraphed her father about herwatch with diamonds set in the back, and he sent up two detectives fromBoston, who, so everybody supposed, would make short work of findingthe robber. They took statements from girls who had lost theirvaluables during the year and from Fay, prowled about the campus and thetown, and finally went back to Boston and presented Emily's father witha long bill and the enlightening information that the case was apuzzling one and if anything more turned up they would communicate it.
Georgia Ames displayed no unusual interest in the robbery. She happenedto tell Betty that she had spent the entire evening of the bacon-roastwith Roberta, and Betty, watching her keenly, was almost sure that sheknew nothing of the excitement at the Westcott until the B's came overbefore chapel to inquire for "the runaway lady" and brought the news ofthe robbery with them. The "runaway lady" explained that she wasn't evenvery lame and should have to go to classes just as usual. Then she hidher face for a minute on Bob's broad shoulder,--for though she wasn'tlame she had dreamed all night of Lady and stones and briars and brokencollar-bones,--and Bob patted her curls and told her that Lady was goingto be sold, and that she should have been frightened to pieces inBetty's place. After which Betty covered her scratches with a verybewitching white veil and went to chapel, just as if nothing hadhappened.
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