As Colonel Baxter led the way to the drawing room, he said: "Now girls, have you been real good, today?"
"Of course we have!" the girls exclaimed together.
"We're always good!" said Joy.
"All right then, I'll show you something nice."
"What is it?" cried Bet clapping her hands. "Don't tell me it's an old musket or sword or anything warlike. I'm fed up on guns!"
"No, I think this treasure will bring a response from your hearts, if you are as feminine as I think you are."
"It must be a ring!" exclaimed Joy.
"Something far more exciting!" laughed Colonel Baxter.
"Another gown!" suggested Shirley.
"Never. He has too many of them already. It must be something very special, for Dad's so excited. Has it jewels and everything?" laughed Bet.
"Guess!"
"Jewelled slippers?" said Kit.
"That's old stuff. He has three pair of those already. I know Dad wouldn't enthuse over slippers."
"What can it be? I'll guess that it's a necklace."
"No, Kit, it's still more interesting than a necklace," answered the Colonel.
"Oh, I know," suddenly cried Shirley. "A musical snuff box!"
"He had several of those once, I know he wouldn't make a fuss over them, they're not so valuable."
"Then what is it? Tell us quickly," pleaded Joy who never did like to play the game of guessing.
"Do you give up?"
"No, no, not yet!" pleaded Bet. "One more try."
"All right, but only one more, remember," laughed the Colonel.
"I'll guess that it's one of those crystal flasks for smelling salts."
"What were smelling salts for?" asked Kit.
"Well, you see in those days it was the fashion for young ladies to be frail and delicate and the least noise was apt to startle them and make them faint."
"Oh ho, I see," shouted Kit, "so they carried their restoratives around with them. Some idea!"
"Think of it," said Bet contemptuously. "Wanting to faint in order to look interesting."
"And is it a crystal flask?" asked Kit.
"No. Come on upstairs and I'll show you what it is."
They followed, laughing and chatting as they went. Kit had some difficulty in handling her long skirts. Bet watched her with amusement.
"Those gowns may be beautiful to look at, but for comfort, give me my short dress with no flounces or trains."
"That's what I say, too, Bet, but what can you expect from ladies who liked to faint?" laughed Kit.
"Did you ever think about it, Kit, how lucky we are to be born in this age? Girls have such a good time."
Their conversation was interrupted by Colonel Baxter calling, "Come along, girls!"
As they entered the room he sat at his desk holding a small package in his hand.
"This is something I bought a few months ago, and I took it out of the vault to have a photograph made of it. I am not quitesurethat it is worth a lot of money, but I think it is. Here we are."
The Colonel unfolded a piece of silk and placed the treasure on it.
"A fan!" exclaimed Bet. "Oh, Daddy, what a beauty!" She held out her hand as if to take it, then hesitated. It seemed too pretty to touch.
The sticks and guards of the fan were of ivory, elaborately carved and pierced. The raised figures and designs were gilded. The mount of the fan was of parchment, painted with a scene of the Luxembourg gardens in which a fête was taking place. Young lovers in the dim sunlight under the trees, paid court to their ladies. There was flirting and teasing and romping play. Though gaiety and frivolity were expressed yet there was a certain wistfulness as well, a little heart-throb of haunting regret.
"It seems as if the artist had told a whole story in that tiny picture," said Kit quietly.
"That's it, exactly," exclaimed Colonel Baxter, bestowing a smile on Kit. This young girl had caught the idea of the painting at a glance.
"How can you tell whether it is valuable or not?" asked Shirley.
"We know it is worth a lot of money, for Watteau, a famous painter of the 18th Century did this work. But there is another detail to be decided before we can say how valuable it is."
The four girls, sensing a romance, looked on with interest and pleasure. Colonel Baxter fingered the fan with the touch of one who loved beautiful things. His hand caressed the carved ivory.
"Whose was it, Dad?" begged Bet. "It couldn't have been an ordinary person's fan."
"Of course it wasn't!" said Kit emphatically.
"Did it belong to Martha Washington?" asked Bet suddenly.
"We seem to be doing a lot of guessing today."
"No, it did not belong to Martha Washington. A lot more interesting than that!"
"Lady Betty Merriweather! I'm sure it was hers," exclaimed Kit.
"Wrong again! No, the fan once belonged to a queen, a beautiful, light-hearted queen of France, who came to a tragic end."
"Marie Antoinette!" gasped Bet. "Oh, Daddy, think of it!"
"Yes. When she first came to France as the bride of the Dauphin, Louis XV admired her for her great beauty and showered her with gifts. And we believe this fan was given to her by the king. As soon as I hear from an expert who is working on the case, I will know for sure."
"A queen's fan!" exclaimed Kit. "Doesn't it sound romantic?"
"And she would use it like this!" And Bet took the fan from her father, flourished it back and forth coquettishly with a flippant smile, half hidden by the fan.
A chorus of laughter greeted Bet's imitation of a flirt.
"Where did my daughter learn all those arts?" asked her father.
"She didn't have to learn them. They came natural," sang Joy, as she danced out of the room.
"Ladies used their fans to send messages to the lovers they preferred and to tease them with arch glances at other suitors," explained Bet. "It was a gay life at Court!"
"And I can imagine that Marie Antoinette knew how to flirt with her fan. She was so gay and lighthearted," mused Kit.
"Poor Marie Antoinette! I've always pitied her, even if she was thoughtless and spoiled. She didn't deserve to be punished as she was!" Shirley said pensively.
"I always like to think of her at Little Trianon, where she used to play at being a farm girl and churn, and feed the chickens. She was just a child. —I do hope the fan was hers," said Kit.
"And I hope so for many reasons," smiled Colonel Baxter. "It will be worth three times as much money if she owned it."
"Wouldn't old Peter Gruff open his eyes wide if he could see it?" exclaimed Bet. "How that man loves antiques!"
Peter Gruff was a second-hand dealer in Lynnwood whose hobby was picking up antiques at a ridiculously low price and selling them at fabulous sums. In a trade, he could stand watching.
As the Colonel folded up the fan carefully and put it away, Bet exclaimed: "Come on, girls, there's something in my room that I'd like to show you."
"Wait a minute, Shirley," called the Colonel. "Do you want to take a picture of the queen's fan for me?"
"Oh, Colonel Baxter, do you suppose I can do it?"
"Certainly, there's no trick about it. Bring your camera the next time you come up."
"That will be on Monday morning."
"Good! I'll be home until noon."
Half an hour later the toot of an auto horn sounded from the driveway.
"Aw, that's Bob coming to take me home," pouted Joy. "Wish he'd wait until I telephone. He always comes before I'm half ready."
The Colonel was at the door before the young man could ring the bell. Bob Evans and Phil Gordon were two boys that the Colonel admired and was always glad to welcome to the Manor.
Like his sister, Bob was light-hearted. Yet he could be serious at times, and it is well that that was the case, for Joy's mother was a gay, frivolous young woman, who loved to go to parties and there were times when Joy might have been neglected had it not been for her brother's care.
He was a slightly built boy with a head of curly blond locks that were the envy of Joy, for her hair was neither blond nor dark and had no sign of curl.
Phil was the opposite. He was almost as dark as Kit, a tall, handsome fellow whose dark eyes were sombre and gave the impression that he was brooding.
Bob seemed to bring the breeze from outside in with him as he smiled and held out his hand to Colonel Baxter.
"Joy would never come home if I didn't drag her away, Colonel."
"That's because we are never quite willing to give up our little sprite," replied the Colonel with Old World courtesy. "We couldn't get along without Joy's laughter."
"Giggles, you mean," answered her brother playfully.
"Sounds just like a brother!" laughed Joy, looking up at the pleasant-faced boy beside her.
Bob and Phil were introduced to Kit and were quite startled at the vision of the Colonial maid.
"Having a masquerade?" asked Phil.
"Nothing like that," answered Bet. "Lady Betty Merriweather decided to come out of her frame, and here she is."
"She's much better looking than Lady Betty, if you ask me," exclaimed Bob, but if Kit liked the compliment she didn't show it. Lady Betty was perfect and no one could outdo her in anything.
"Come on, Joy, hurry up. Let's get started!" said Bob suddenly.
"But we'll have to wait for Kit to get out of that dress and change to her own."
"So Lady Merriweather isn't going to step back into the frame? Too bad!" laughed Phil. "It was very becoming!"
The girl who appeared a few moments later in torn skirt was no less attractive than the Colonial maid. To the eyes of the modern young people, she seemed far more human and companionable.
As the automobile carried them away. Bet turned to her father:
"Did you ever see anyone who could choose such good friends as I can?"
"Never in this world, Bet!" laughed the Colonel as he pinched her cheek.
Before saying goodnight to her chums, Bet had made a plan for them to come back early on Monday for another picnic.
"When we get to studying, we just drop swimming and everything else."
"I'll be most afraid to swim in a big river like the Hudson," said Kit with a shiver. "I learned to swim in a water hole in Indian Creek, and it wasn't much more than just deep enough to cover me."
"You'll love the Hudson!" declared Joy. "At high tide it's great!"
"I didn't know that a river had a tide."
"Close to the sea they do. The Hudson has, as you'll soon learn. It has a tide and even a good strong undertow in places. —Well, you just have to know the Hudson to appreciate all its fine points," Bet exclaimed with enthusiasm.
"Be sure and bring your camera, Miss Fixit, and take that picture of the queen's fan. I'll be home all morning." Because Shirley was always tinkering with her camera, the Colonel had playfully given her the name of Miss Fixit.
So the girls had agreed to come early and have a long day at the beach that belonged to the Merriweather estate.
"I don't hear any invitations for us to come along. Don't you think boys enjoy picnics as well as girls?" protested Bob Evans.
"Boys spoil all the fun," said Joy contemptuously, but with mischief in her eyes.
"No, they don't, Joy!" Bet disagreed. "Sometimes they are very useful. —To build picnic fires and keep them going."
"Oh, yes, you're always glad to make use of us. But you never invite us to any of your good times. Never!"
"If big brothers wouldn't tease so much, they might get invited once in a while," laughed Joy as she looked up at her tall brother, who had always been her protector and hero as long as she could remember.
"Do come," shouted Bet as they got into the car. "Even if we didn't think to invite you, we'll be mighty glad to see you when you get there." As she turned and linked her arm in her father's, she little dreamed that her last remark would be remembered by all four girls as a strange prophecy.
The girls saw each other only for a moment at church the next day. Bet left immediately after the service, as the Colonel was expecting guests for dinner. She gave her friends a smile, a wave of the hand and a funny pantomime which they understood. They were to be at the Manor the next morning, early.
And early it was. Bet had been up for hours but Colonel Baxter had not finished his breakfast when the girls came in like shafts of sunlight through shutters.
Shirley was loaded down with two cameras and a tripod, her face glowing with the pleasure she felt in being able to do a favor for Bet's father.
Shirley was the only one of the group whose parents were not well off financially. She was the oldest of four children and lived in a small house on the main street of the village. She had done all sorts of odd jobs in order to earn her longed-for cameras, and had studied them well.
Sometimes when the girls talked of the future when they would go to college, Shirley's face became clouded, for her father's poor health made it impossible for him to be steadily employed. Shirley's chances of college seemed very slim. The Colonel often called upon Shirley to take pictures of Bet on the grounds of the estate, as an excuse to give the girl a chance to earn a few dollars.
"Do hurry, Dad, and finish your breakfast! We're anxious to be off. Couldn't the pictures wait?"
"No, Bet, I want to take them now," replied Shirley. "You can go along if you want to and I'll come later."
"We'll wait," answered Bet cheerfully.
The Colonel rose and saluted, "I am at your service!"
Shirley arranged the lighting like an expert and took several poses of the little fan against a background of black velvet, placing it in different degrees of light. The other girls were not particularly interested. Shirley's hobby was all right, when she took pictures of them, but just now they were impatient to be off.
Then Shirley had to waste more time showing the Colonel about the latest self-photography attachment that she had recently bought.
"I got tired always being left out of the group. And the other girls can't take pictures to suit me."
"Is this the same idea that is used in photographing wild animals?" asked Colonel Baxter.
"It's the same principle, but a little wire or spring is touched by the animal and this releases the shutter and for night pictures sets off a flash powder as well. I'm going to get one of those attachments by winter time, as the camera company has offered a prize for wild animal pictures."
"Aw, come on, Shirley," called Joy. "You're an old slow poke. You finished that picture long ago."
But Shirley delayed still longer to put her large camera carefully away. The small one she tucked under her arm to take with her to the river.
It was Kit's first trip to the little beach belonging to Bet's father. The bath house with its tiny dressing rooms pleased her immensely. "Imagine," she exclaimed, "building a house to dress and undress in. A clump of mesquite bushes always served my purpose."
Kit could not pretend to be other than she was. Fearing that these girls, whose homes were so elegant, might look down upon her, she had planned to keep her affairs to herself, but whenever anything unusual came up, she was startled by the contrast and blurted out the queer makeshifts that they had in her crude home in the desert.
She had no need to fear. The girls were as interested in Kit's description of her home life as they were in the exploits of the cowboys that she loved to talk about.
"I'd just love to eat out under a cotton-wood tree by the stream. That must be a lovely way to live," exclaimed Bet.
"I don't think you'd enjoy it for long, after what you're used to. You'd want to get back to all that lovely glassware and beautiful dishes. You'd miss your Manor."
"Of course I'd miss the Manor if I was away from it, but I'd love the other, too, I know I would."
They had just come in sight of the broad Hudson and Kit stopped short to gaze upon that wide flow of water.
"And oh, look at that lovely boat out there! Whose is it?"
"That's Dad's motor boat. I'm not allowed to run it, although I know I could just as well as not. Dad seems to think I'm still a baby and a girl baby at that."
They had reached the beach and Bet was opening the door of the boat house as she spoke and when Kit saw the little green canoe, she was speechless. She looked at it with glowing eyes.
"Isn't it a dear? It's mine!" said Bet.
"Can you go out with it whenever you want to?"
"Yes, any time."
"I've never been in a boat in my life!" Kit's breath came in excited little gasps. "Could we go out in it today?"
"Never had a boat ride!" exclaimed Joy. "How funny! What did you do with yourself?"
"Well, mostly I rode Powder, my cowpony. That was fun. Horseback riding is great sport!"
"You're the lucky one! I've never had a horseback ride in my life."
"What!" cried Kit. "Never had a horseback ride? How funny!"
And everybody laughed, for what was a common-place happening for one was in the nature of an adventure for the other.
"After lunch we'll go out in the canoe!" declared Bet. "I'll be mighty proud to give you your first boat ride."
Kit looked at the brightly-painted little canoe many times before the lunch was finished and Bet declared herself ready to go.
The egg sandwiches and stuffed olives were eaten without much thought by Kit. Apple turnovers and fudge slipped down as if she were in a dream, for Kit's mind was racing ahead to the thrill of getting out on the Hudson in a boat.
The girls helped Bet to drag the canoe out of the boat house and to the edge of the water. Joy and Shirley decided not to go. Shirley was trying to get some good pictures of the gulls today and Joy wasn't in the mood.
"Anyway," laughed Joy, "in a canoe, two is company, three's a crowd. Trot along and enjoy yourselves."
Kit took her place in the boat and Bet shoved it off the sandy beach with her paddle, and in a moment Kit felt it bobbing on the water. Living up to its name, "The Arrow," it shot gracefully out to the stream, guided by Bet's capable hands.
Kit held on to both sides of the boat at first. She felt quivery and half frightened.
Bet was using the paddle vigorously. She wore no hat and her blond hair was tousled as usual. It seemed impossible for Bet to keep her unruly locks in order at any time, but now as the breeze ruffled it, she looked like some half-wild elfin creature.
She was tall for her age but slender and her pink and white coloring gave her an appearance of frailty, but when she used her paddle, Kit was fascinated to watch the swelling of the muscles of her arms. She seemed made of springs as she plied the paddle first at one side then the other, with quick, sure, strokes.
"Have you ever been across the Hudson?" asked Kit. "Across the Hudson! Doesn't that sound romantic? It's a long way, isn't it?"
"Only about a mile, I think."
"And have you ever paddled over there?"
"Heaps of times! We've been everywhere on this river. We used to go out and get in the wash of the river steamers. That was lots of fun. Once we almost got upset and Dad made me promise I'd never do that again."
"Well, if you don't mind, Bet, you can dispense with all the extra thrills today. For this is giving me heart trouble as it is."
"Why, what's the matter? You're not frightened, are you?"
"Of course I'm frightened. Scared stiff!"
Bet stopped paddling to laugh at her friend. "Kit Patten, you're the funniest girl I've ever seen."
Then with long sweeping strokes,The Arrowshot out into the channel, sending sparkling drops into the air as it cut its way through the current.
Kit's brown eyes were shining with excitement and the sense of danger that she imagined was there. "Why, Bet Baxter, this is the most thrilling thing I've ever done in my life. It's more fun than horseback riding. It's a perfect day. It was good of you to take me."
The canoe was now headed toward the beach, having reached the quieter waters of the farther shore, and as soon as the boat touched the sand, Bet sprang out and with practised hand drew the bow up on the beach.
"Here you are, Kit. Now you've been across the Hudson. It's not often a person has a chance to have her wishes granted so quickly."
"Isn't it wonderful!" gasped Kit. "I've never had such a gorgeous time in my life."
The girls stretched themselves out on the sand for a few minutes.
"Doesn't Lynnwood look beautiful over there? And just see how very romantic the Manor is from here."
"I think we'd better start back at once," exclaimed Bet suddenly. "It's getting cloudy over that way again, and as we've had a thunder storm every day for a week, we may have another this afternoon."
They lost no time in getting into the boat, for already there was a distant peal of thunder. It was miles and miles away, but Bet didn't intend to take chances. Her hand worked in a steady rhythm that sent the boat ahead like a flat stone skimming the water.
But as they reached the middle of the river, the wind struck them suddenly and with violence. It seemed to the girls as if the canoe had been lifted and turned over. Kit gave a little cry of terror, but Bet's look of reproach was sufficient. At a signal from Bet, the girl slid to the bottom of the boat, and remained still.
The storm was upon them. A fierce wind shook the little craft as if a hand had clutched it.
Bet kept the bow of the boat head-on to the heavy rollers that threatened to capsize it. The quiet river had suddenly become a regular sea, choppy and vicious, and Bet strained at the paddle, her face white and tense.
Kit crouched in the bottom of the boat. She was anxious to help but did not know what to do. During a little lull she cried: "Oh, Bet, can't I help? You must be tired. Let me try to paddle, I think I can."
"No," screamed Bet to make herself heard. "Just keep still and don't even speak to me. I need every breath to work with."
The boat tossed and plunged. "It acts like a bucking horse when they put on a saddle for the first time," thought Kit. The bow of the canoe was lifted straight up and then lowered on a wave. For a second it rested only to meet another swell.
Sometimes Bet raised her eyes and looked anxiously down the river. The squall was coming straight toward them; travelling with the wind, it was racing over the water.
The little boat rolled and plunged as the blinding sheet of rain enveloped it, shutting out for a moment the shore on both sides of the river.
Spray broke over the sides and soaked the girls to the skin.
"There's a can there, Kit. Try to keep the water baled out." It was all she could do to make Kit hear, even when she screamed with all her might.
Bet's arms were aching, her eyes strained with the nerve tension and the strength that she was giving out to keep the boat from being engulfed.
While Kit would have gladly relieved her, she had never handled a paddle in her life and now was not the time to experiment.
"It can't be far now," muttered Bet between her clenched teeth. It seemed to the girl that she had been paddling for hours.
Bet spoke again: "Scream for help, Kit! Someone may hear, but it's not likely. Scream anyway!"
And Kit shouted until she was hoarse but the wind stopped the sound. Even Bet, close beside her, could hardly hear and made a sign for her to stop.
"If I can only get across the channel," thought Bet, as she struggled to keep the canoe balanced.
But all her efforts seemed not to send the canoe ahead even a foot. Buffeted by the angry waves, it was all she could do to keep it afloat.
"Hold on to it, Bet! That's it! Keep it up!" cried Kit. "I think I see a boat coming!"
For a brief moment darkness settled down upon Bet. Her head swam. Her strength was about gone.
There was a violent jar on the canoe that brought her back to her senses. If they were to be saved, she must keep on.
Another wave dashed over them, and Kit's arm was kept busy scooping up the water and throwing it back to the river. Never had she worked so desperately in her life.
At intervals she glanced up at Bet, but the girl's white face was no comfort to her.
Her eyes searched the river again. "It is a boat, Bet! Help is coming!" and as another dash of water struck them she screamed: "Hold it, Bet! Don't let go!"
After the canoe had started on its voyage that was to prove so terrifying to the girls, Joy had stretched herself at full length in the sand preparing for a lazy afternoon. She was content just to let the sand sift through her fingers. Mostly she liked to dance or sing, but today she was too indolent. Shirley busied herself as usual, directing her camera this time toward some gulls that flew above her head.
"Now I'm going to fix the camera ready to get a good snap of the girls in the canoe. Kit wants one to send to her mother."
"I do believe they've gone clear over to the other side, haven't they, Shirley?" said Joy jumping to her feet.
"There they are, they look like a little speck over there."
But as soon as they saw the first sign of a storm, they grew restless. "I do wish those girls would get back! It's not safe to be out in a canoe in any kind of a storm."
The cloud grew bigger and bigger and was turning black and menacing. A storm was coming. "I know what I'm going to do," declared Joy. "That rain isn't far off. I'm going for help before it's needed."
Just what she intended to do, she hardly knew. She had made no plan. She would go to the Manor and tell Uncle Nat.
A few rods up the path she met Bob Evans and Phil Gordon.
"Here we are!" Bob shouted. "We've come without an invitation from you, Joy Evans. Where's the eats? We're starved."
"Bet said she'd be glad to see us," laughed Phil, pretending displeasure with Joy.
"Oh Bob, quick!" cried Joy. "Do something! Bet and Kit are out in the canoe, just started back from the other side. It looks terribly mean, I think there is going to be a bad storm."
"Oh you needn't worry if Bet is paddling. You can trust her. She can paddle a canoe better than any man. I wouldn't be afraid for her even in a storm," said Phil unconcernedly. "Anyway I don't think it will amount to anything!"
"You're wrong, Phil," exclaimed Bob as they neared the beach. "That cloud certainly looks like a storm." The first gust of wind struck them.
"It's coming, all right!" Phil looked anxiously toward the canoe. "And when it comes it's going to be a hum-dinger!"
"Let's get the motor boat into action," cried Bob. "If it blows up a nasty squall, Kit may get panicky. You can trust Bet in a tight place, but Kit is a new-comer."
"Can Kit swim?" asked Phil.
"A little," answered Shirley, "But I know she could never get along in rough water."
"Do hurry boys, we're terribly worried," urged Joy.
The boys were wearing bathing suits under their clothes and it only took a moment for them to strip.
To add to the distress of the girls, Smiley Jim had arrived and was racing up and down the sand barking in a long-drawn-out, mournful howl toward the river. Shirley caught him by the collar.
"That's no way to do, Smiley. You can't help Bet that way! Quiet down!" The dog was trembling in every limb. He'd ceased his howling when the boys started out into the water.
With long-reaching arm strokes they cut the waves and sped toward the launch that was moored a short distance from the shore.
It took only a few minutes to start the motor and as it headed toward the channel, Phil said, "There they are, they're all right."
Then the rain came up the river as if it were a great grey curtain shutting out the river and shore.
"Hurry Bob!" shouted Phil. "They're gone."
A moment later, he called again: "No, there they are. Go down stream a little Bob, the current is running so strong that Bet can't keep it on a straight course."
"We'll never get them in this storm!" groaned Bob, as the rain again shut out the sight of the canoe. Drifting downward with the current, they worked outward toward the middle of the river.
A flash of lightning pierced the grey sheet.
"I see them, Bob! Straight ahead!"
The canoe rose on a huge wave, seemed to stand on end, then disappeared.
"They're gone!" Phil closed his eyes to shut out the sight that he feared he might have to see, two struggling figures in the water.
And at that same moment Bet thought that the canoe would never right itself. Yet she held on, stubbornly. Her arms ached and every move was agony. At times she thought that all her strength was gone and that she would have to give up.
Help was coming! But would she be able to hold out until that boat came? She was doing things mechanically now, without thought, and instinct seemed to guide her to do the right thing.
"I think I see some one, Bet. Hold on for dear life! We'll win yet!—There they are. Someone is coming, Bet!"
Bet did not raise her eyes from her work. She heard Kit's assurance that help was near and for a second she felt faint again and giddy.
Even when she could hear the chug-chug of the motor, she realized that it was not going to be an easy job to be transferred from the canoe. There was still greater danger ahead than anything they had yet experienced. The approach of the launch in the rough sea would almost surely upset the canoe. The boys realized that too. They slowed up and circled the boat, gradually coming closer. It took all of Bet's strength to hold it.
Phil knew that to try to swim toward them would be foolish in the storm. Then an idea came to him. He spoke to Bob and he brought the launch near the canoe again.
Kit was bailing water for all she was worth, but keeping her eyes on the motor boat at the same time. Then as the boat came near she saw something flung toward her, something that the mountain girl understood and knew how to handle. A rope! With quick practiced reach, she caught it.
"Put it around your waist, Kit. They can never tow us in this storm." Bet's teeth were chattering now.
Kit quickly made a loop and fastened it around Bet's waist. "Now Bet, you're safe," she cried. "And I'll hold on to you."
The motor boat had drifted away from them but again Bob brought it alongside. Another rope was flung toward them, but the wind sent it flying backward.
"If I could only have jumped for it!" thought Kit, but she knew that any movement might mean destruction.
Four times Phil threw the rope before Kit caught it and fastened it about herself.
Bet, knowing that they were safe, may have relaxed her efforts, or perhaps the very end of her strength had been reached. The canoe took a wave side-on and turned completely over.
Kit struggled, gulped and swallowed as the cold water covered her and she felt herself being drawn toward the boat. But Bet did not remember anything of the plunge.
They were still in danger, for it needed Bob and Phil to raise the two girls over the side of the launch, and it looked at times as if the motorboat would be swallowed up. The little canoe was left, to be tossed about on the waves.
When the motor again purred and the boat had headed toward the shore, the two girls were in the bottom of the launch. Bet lay there deathly white and showed no sign of life. Kit was sobbing and shaking and was no possible help to the boy, who was trying to revive the still figure of the plucky girl.
The wind subsided as quickly as it had come and by the time the motor reached the dock, the storm was over. Phil lifted Bet in his arms and carried her to the sand. Uncle Nat and Auntie Gibbs had been called and were there to help.
"Get her to the house at once," exclaimed Uncle Nat, as he half carried Kit ashore. She was trembling so violently that she could not stand. "I telephoned Dr. Snow what was happening and he said he would come at once."
Auntie Gibbs stood there wringing her hands and calling on Bet to speak to her. Smiley Jim snuggled up to the still form of Bet and howled furiously when she did not call to him.
Phil and Bob carried Bet up the hill to the Manor. At the door they met Dr. Snow, who without a word began working over the unconscious girl.
"She'll be all right!" He finally spoke to Auntie Gibbs who was almost beside herself with fear. "I don't think she's swallowed much water. It's probably exhaustion more than anything else. Better get her to bed."
A stimulant injected in Bet's arm soon brought her back to life, and when Auntie Gibbs had wrapped her in blankets and given her a hot drink, the blood began to circulate once more and she smiled up at the old housekeeper.
"Don't worry, Auntie Gibbs, I'm tough!"
And strange to say it was Kit and not Bet who was the more seriously affected by the accident.
As Doctor Snow relaxed his efforts over Bet, Shirley touched him on the arm. "Come and see Kit, Doctor. She's sick. Terribly sick, I'm afraid. She wouldn't let me come any sooner until she knew that Bet was better."
The doctor hastened after Shirley and found Kit shaking with chills.
"Get a bed ready in a hurry," commanded the doctor and as Auntie Gibbs flew up stairs, he said:
"Help me here, Phil. We'll carry her right up."
Kit tried to speak but her voice was only a wheezing rasp and ended in a groan.
When Mrs. Stacey arrived, having been called by Shirley, she was anxious to get Kit to the hospital, but the doctor refused to have her moved. "Everything depends on keeping her quiet and warm during the next few hours."
At six o'clock when Colonel Baxter arrived, he rushed into the house like a man whose reason had left him. He had heard of the accident and had been told that Bet was dying, if not already dead.
"Bet! Oh Bet!" he moaned. His face was deadly white. "Bet! Where is she?"
Shirley was at his side in a moment. "Bet is all right, Colonel Baxter. She's sound asleep now and seems comfortable. It's Kit we're worried about."
Colonel Baxter's face looked relieved for a second, then he realized that if anything happened to Kit some other father would feel as he felt on that ride from the station.
He slipped into Bet's room and looked at her for a moment as if to assure himself that she was safe, then went to Kit. The doctor was alone at the bedside.
"Will she live, Doctor?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
"It will be a hard pull tonight to keep this from developing into pneumonia. She's strong and ought to pull through—but one never can tell. She's a sick girl."
Mrs. Stacey spoke:
"I do not see how I can impose on you in this way, Colonel Baxter. I feel as if we should get the child to the hospital."
"Please don't say that, Mrs. Stacey. Consider the Manor your home and Kit's until she is perfectly well again. Get the best nurse you know of, Doctor."
"She will need watching every hour tonight if we are to prevent a serious illness. I will remain here, and I've already called up a good nurse."
In the morning Kit was resting quietly. The terrible wheezing had ceased and the fever was coming down.
In her delirium, Kit had cried, "Help, help!" until Bet, awakened by her cries, wrapped herself up and crept into the room.
"Go back to bed," ordered the doctor. "You'll be sick next."
"No, I won't, Doctor Snow. Kit needs me, I must help her. Please let me speak to her. I'm sure I can quiet her."
Bet knelt by the bed and clasped Kit's hand. "Listen Kit," she said quietly but firmly. "This is Bet; I'm all right. We're both safe at home."
Kit started up, "No, no. Bet is drowned! I saw her so white."
"Kit dear, listen to me. This is Bet. I'm right here beside you!" Bet repeated the sentence over and over until at last the sick brain seemed to grasp the idea and the girl quieted down, and even slept for a few minutes.
"She'll be all right now," the doctor announced to Colonel Baxter, who had come in to inquire how Kit was. "And you'd better get your daughter back to bed. She's been under a strain and needs rest."
The Colonel lifted Bet tenderly in his arms and carried her to her room.
"Sit by me, Dad, I'm frightened," she sighed. "It's so comfortable to have you. I want to hold on to you, then I don't think about that storm."
The Colonel took the little hand in his and held it until she finally relaxed and fell asleep. Not until the lines of strain had left her face, to be replaced by a peaceful expression, did he go back to his own room.
Even then he could not sleep. The details of the storm were pictured in his mind and kept him awake. Adding horror upon horror, he tossed from side to side.
"What if Bet had been drowned!"
Again and again he arose and tiptoed into Bet's room to make sure that she was resting, and that he still had her! Without Bet, life would be unbearable!
It was a week before Kit was allowed to see all her friends. Bet was given permission to slip in once in a while, just to reassure the sick girl that she was all right. Kit kept worrying and would wake up terrified, believing that Bet had been drowned.
Shirley and Joy made daily visits to the Manor. They helped Auntie Gibbs in the kitchen; they did everything they could for the nurse and even helped Mrs. Stacey so she could come and sit with Kit.
Bet was not allowed to get up, as the exposure and strain had made her heart play strange tricks.
"She's just tired, that's all," said the doctor. "Nothing to worry about," he assured Colonel Baxter, who was anxious as he looked at the pale face of his daughter.
"Tired and half frightened to death," laughed Bet as she pressed her father's hand. "It's good to be near you, Dad."
At first the doctor had forbidden anyone to mention the accident to Kit, but as she seemed to be worrying over something he finally told Bet to go and talk the matter over with her.
"Oh Bet, what do you think of me? It was all my fault!" exclaimed the sick girl, as she raised herself on her elbow.
"That's all nonsense. It was every bit mine. Dad says so and he ought to know."
"But I coaxed you to go across the river," moaned Kit. "I'll never forgive myself!"
"Of course you coaxed me to go across the river, but I should have known what to expect with a sky like that. I just didn't think. Dad says that's no excuse at all."
"Bet, dear, it was terrible sitting there in the bottom of the boat and being too stupid to help any." Kit shuddered at the remembrance.
"Why, Kit Patten! You think you didn't do anything! In the first place you kept the boat baled out as well as anyone could. If you hadn't, we'd have been swamped."
"That wasn't anything, Bet."
"If it hadn't been for you we would both have been drowned. If you had been paddling, you couldn't have caught the rope and tied the loops. And I wouldn't have known how to tie a loop so it would hold. You saved our lives! Dad and I will never forget it."
"Bet, you're silly! You know Bob and Phil came."
"They couldn't have done anything. If they had come any nearer, the canoe would have capsized."
"Did I really do my part? I've been worried about it."
"And then some!" laughed Bet. "You're the heroine of the occasion. Now let's forget it!"
It seemed as if Kit had only been waiting to get the burden off her mind before recovering completely. Within a few days she was sitting up, receiving her friends and was planning on going back to Mrs. Stacey's.
Colonel Baxter wanted to keep her with them for a while, promising her all sorts of good times to make up for the unhappiness she had had, but Mrs. Stacey thought it wiser to take her home.
"Never mind, Kit, we'll have that good time before long. We'll have a big party and ask all our friends," comforted Bet.
"That sounds splendid," exclaimed the Colonel. "We'll do it as soon as you get acquainted and find out what young people you like."
"But I don't want you to go home tomorrow," pleaded Bet. "Coax Mrs. Stacey to leave you another day."
Kit laughed: "Well you know we've coaxed for one more day and then one more day and got them. No, I think we'd better not say a word. Anyway I do rather want to get back there."
"I know how you feel, of course. Home is home."
"I tell you what I'd like to do this last afternoon, Bet. I'd like to go down in the big hall so I can see Lady Betty Merriweather. Let's spend my last afternoon with her."
Helped by Bet, Kit descended the winding stairway and lay on the couch where she could see the portrait that she loved. The sun was shining brightly now and shafts of colored lights, from the stained glass, made beautiful patterns on the rug. It seemed to give the room just the romantic setting that belonged to Lady Betty.
The girls liked to imagine sometimes that they had really known the lady.
"She used to be so gay and happy that everyone loved her," Bet's voice was dreamy and seemed to come from far away. "And in these very rooms she held parties that were the talk of the Colonies, for all the great people here knew her and felt proud to be her guest."
"I should think she must have been the most popular woman in America at that time."
"I'm sure of it. And she was hardly more than a girl. Only twenty-two when Lord Cecil brought her here as a bride, to be mistress of the Manor."
"He must have been terribly proud of her!"
"I read a story about her once, how when the Revolution started, she felt that it was something that did not concern her at all. She wouldn't consent to have Lord Cecil mix into the trouble at all, for they had so many friends on both sides."
"I know just how she felt, don't you, Bet?"
"Of course! Lady Betty didn't want to think about wars and fighting. She wanted to have parties and make people happy. But of course the estate and everything they had, was from the English Crown, for his services here."
"I should think she would rather have given it up than get into the quarrel."
"And that's exactly how she felt about it," exclaimed Bet. "And while they made up their minds not to take sides, it wasn't easy to do. All their friends had made a decision, some on the English side and some on the American. And after a while, Lord Cecil and Lady Betty got into it, too."
"And I know which side they chose," cried Kit excitedly. "They decided to fight for America."
"Yes, think of it!" cried Bet. "At that time Washington's forces were being defeated all around here, and it must have seemed to them that they were giving up their lovely home."
"And did Lord Cecil go to the war and fight?" asked Kit.
"Yes. And Lady Betty smiled as he rode away. That is until he was out of sight."
"She must have been very unhappy without her husband," whispered Kit.
"Then after Lord Cecil had been fighting for about two months, Lady Betty received a message from him, telling her to get to the American lines, down near King's Bridge, just as soon as possible. The English were advancing and if they found her at the Manor they would make her answer all kinds of questions and perhaps keep her a prisoner, hoping to get information." Bet paused for a moment and gazed up at the portrait.
"Go on Bet! What did she do?"
"She left an old servant in charge at the Manor and started out on horseback with just a small colored boy to carry her portmanteau. And just imagine, Lady Betty had never before been out after nightfall without an escort. She must have been terribly frightened."
"But that wouldn't stop her, I know!"
"No. She galloped along the Post Road.—And Kit, doesn't it give you a little thrill to know it's the very same road that runs past the house now?—And pretty soon she saw some riders coming toward her in the distance. So she turned off on another road that was not used much. It would lead her to King's Bridge but was a longer way there. But they hadn't gone far when she again saw a rider, this time ahead of them. The man looked as if he couldn't sit straight in his saddle. He seemed to sway.
"Then Lady Betty recognized the horse. It was Monarch, Lord Cecil's own mount. 'Hurry Sam!' she cried fearfully, 'It's Monarch!'"
"And was it Lord Cecil?"
"Yes, he had been wounded but had escaped from his enemies. And it is a good thing he did, for he was carrying a message to his own army. But when he saw Lady Betty, he almost fell from his horse, and would have, if she had not supported him."
"Oh the poor man!" murmured Kit.
"But just in a minute Lord Cecil recovered himself. 'I've got to get through,' he whispered. 'They are depending on me!' But he had lost so much blood from the wound in his leg that he was too weak. And then a wonderful thing happened. Lady Betty supported him until they came to an old hut where Martha Sikes lived. She was an aged servant of the Manor and was pensioned by Lord Cecil.
"And here Lady Betty, after assuring herself that the wound was not dangerous, left her husband in the care of Sam and the old woman and rode away with the message. Lord Cecil was too weak and tired to object."
"My! That was a brave thing to do! I don't believe I would have had the courage to do it."
"Not many of us would, but Lady Betty Merriweather never hesitated. She started out all alone, when every shadow of the night terrified her. And she rode furiously with no thought of the accidents that might occur on the rough road. She kept right on and delivered the message into the hands of the General in charge. And the paper she carried was a warning that the enemy would attack that night."
"Think of it!" mused Kit. "Wasn't that wonderful. She saved the army, I'm sure."
"Yes. The General wanted to send an escort back with her but Lady Betty refused, saying that he would need all his men for the battle that would be sure to come.
"Once on her return trip she saw riders coming and quickly drew her pony to the side of the road and hid behind a clump of bushes. And although her horse was fiery and never stood quietly before, now it was perfectly still. Wasn't that wonderful!"
"I think," said Kit with a slight quiver in her voice, "that horses know everything that is going on."
"That one must have, for it stood motionless. And Lady Betty scarcely breathed. She heard the two riders talking! And she heard her husband's name! And until that minute she thought perhaps they were her friends.
"'Lord Cecil is a traitor! He deserves to be hung!' exclaimed one voice in angry, excited tones. 'And he will be before many days go by. I've never yet missed a man I've been sent out to get.'
"'And if we capture him alive, we'll get double pay, is that it?' asked the second voice.
"'And not only that but I am to have his estate. I'll be the next Lord of the Manor!'"
"Poor Lady Betty! It's a wonder she didn't scream!" exclaimed Kit.
"She was too wise to do that. Everything depended on her being brave and not losing her head. At this very moment someone might be at old Martha's cabin to take away Lord Cecil. If a price was on his head, he was not safe for a second."
"And then what?" asked Kit excitedly. "What did she do then?"
"She waited until the riders were out of sight again and then went on. Then at a turn in the road, she came face to face with another man on horseback. Lady Betty was sure now that it was the end. She would be imprisoned or held and not allowed to warn her husband. But her horse whinnied and trotted beside the other horse and she saw the face of the man. It was Denby, her old servant, whom she had left in charge at the Manor."
"And what was he doing there?" exclaimed Kit impatiently. "I thought she told him to guard the Manor."
"No, Denby was true. He noticed after she left that in her excitement she had forgotten her bag of money, and he was on his way to King's Bridge with it. So he turned and rode back with her toward Old Martha's cabin."
"It was good he came, wasn't it?"
"Yes, for a few minutes after that, the old servant touched her sleeve. 'I hear distant riders, it must be soldiers! Let us take to the woods here until they pass.'
"It seemed almost impossible, they thought, that the soldiers did not see them, for they had not been concealed when the British troop rode by on the way to the attack at King's Bridge. Lady Betty was trembling with fright, as the officer in command called, 'Halt!'"
"O—ooh!" exclaimed Kit. "I would have died of fright, I know I would!"
"But Lady Betty didn't. She held on to the bridle with a firm grasp and hardly breathed. You see she had to save not only her husband but the Manor as well. Everything depended on her. Every moment she expected to see the troops following them and the call to fire, but after a short rest, the order to march was given and Lady Betty drew a sigh of relief.
"They kept to the fields from then on, and in an hour saw the little cabin dark, gloomy and poverty-stricken, in front of them.
"At the first sound of horses stopping, old Martha came to the door, ready to put up a fight if need be, but when she recognized Lady Betty she shouted with joy, 'Sam, brisk up that fire a bit, it's your mistress returned.'"
"I know Lady Betty went straight to her wounded husband," said Kit triumphantly.
"Of course," exclaimed Bet. "She wouldn't wait a second. He was tossing about on the bed, anxious about the safety of his wife. And when he saw her coming into the room, he held out his hands to her, and there were tears in his eyes. After he had held her in his arms to assure himself that she was safe, he said, 'Betty, the message?' She hastened to reply: 'I delivered it right into General Brock's hands. Do not worry, the message went through.'
"Lord Cecil didn't get well quickly. The wound in his leg was worse than they thought at first. And he was weak from loss of blood. The little cabin afforded so few of the comforts of life that she decided to get Lord Cecil back to the Manor as soon as possible."
"But wasn't there greater danger there?"
"No, that is Lady Betty didn't think so. At the Manor were stores of food hidden away, and here they were half starved. That's why she got word to the old servant, to come and help her take the master home. And when they got him home, they hid him away."
"Oh Bet, where did they hide him?" asked Kit.
"In that long tunnel, in the arched room."
"The one you showed me the other day, is that it?"
"Yes, that's the one. Lady Betty moved down all the comfortable things he needed, and she stayed there with him, living in the tunnel."
"And did people guess it, the enemy I mean?"
"No, they had good luck that way. The old servant took charge of the house and cooked the food for them. They were not disturbed often, but they could never be sure when a company of soldiers might come by and stay for the night.
"And once the very men who were looking for Lord Cecil, stayed a day and a half. Old Denby had a hard time keeping his temper, for they ransacked the house. Only the fact that one of the men hoped someday to be in possession of the estate, kept them from destroying the place.
"Lady Betty used to go back and forth through the Manor, always listening for footsteps outside. And one night she got caught. She came face to face with an officer of the British army, Colonel Webb. The man was an intimate friend of Lord Cecil's and had been entertained in the Manor many times."
"O—oh Bet! What happened?"
"Lady Betty gave a little gasp of dismay. 'Arthur Webb! You here!' she exclaimed.
"'Yes, Betty, but do not fear, I will not harm you or give away your secret. I thought you were miles from here.' You know, Kit, I always like to think that Colonel Webb was half in love with her, for he came and kissed her hand over and over again. Wasn't that lovely?"
The girls gave themselves up to their dreams forlittle while, then Kit said, "And did Colonel Webbfind out that Lord Cecil was there, too?"
"He suspected it after a while, for he knew that Lord Cecil had been wounded and was ill. So he begged her to let him see his friend. But it was only after much pleading that she finally allowed him to descend the steps that led to the tunnel. Colonel Webb waited until late in the night to be sure that his men were asleep.
"The three friends spent the rest of the night talking of the happiness they had had together, and the sorrow and tragedy that the war had brought to all of them. Lady Betty must have been glad that she had allowed Colonel Webb to come and spend those hours with them, for later on he was killed in an engagement and they never saw him again."
"How sad they must have felt," whispered Kit.
"Yes. Lady Betty was never as gay again. You couldn't expect her to be: she had seen and heard of so much suffering and disappointments."
"And did Lord Cecil ever go back to the war?"
"He was in the last campaign that meant victory for the Americans. By the time the war was over, Lord Cecil was a poor man. He had the Manor, of course, but there was little money and they had few luxuries."
"But I'm sure Lady Betty didn't care about that! She still had Lord Cecil!"
"You know, Kit, I don't believe people have a chance now-a-days to show so much courage. In those stirring times, one had to do daring things."
"If Lady Betty were alive now, I think she'd do something wonderful. It was her nature."
"I think she'd be pleased if she knew about our club, don't you?The Merriweather Girls! I half fancy her smile is sweeter since we thought of it," smiled Bet. "She's the dearest thing, isn't she?"
"It's the most beautiful picture I've ever seen, Bet. Where did it come from. Was it in the Manor when your father bought the place?"
"No, the picture was painted by Gilbert Stuart, the artist who made so many pictures of Washington, and it was handed down by several people and finally sold at auction."
"Think of anyone who owned it being willing to sell it at auction!"
"I'm glad they did, because that was how Dad got it. A number of people wanted it. That's the time Peter Gruff bid against Dad and finally had to give up, as Dad ran the price up too high for him. He stormed and raved. But my mother had said she would like to have it for her reception hall and after that, Dad insisted on having it. And you know he usually gets what he wants. Don't you think he's wonderful, Kit?"
"Indeed he is, Bet. Your father has been so good to me that I'd be a very ungrateful girl if I didn't think he's the best ever."
There was a scratching at the door and Bet ran to open it. "Well here's old Smiley Jim, come to see Kit! Nice old Smiley!"
The dog came in with a bound, switching his bushy tail about and smiling up at his friends. Then after he had received their petting, he went as he always did, directly under the portrait of Lady Betty and, raising his head, barked three short, joyous barks.
"He always does that, Kit, always, just as if he knew her and had to greet her."
"I think it's the finest thing I've ever seen a dog do."
"I really believe he thinks she's alive, for he's done that ever since he was a tiny pup."
That afternoon Joy and Shirley came. "Hurry up and come back to school, it's frightfully lonely without you," exclaimed Shirley. "Half the life is gone from the class."
"For which the teachers consider themselves lucky."
"Maybe so," laughed Joy. "Oh dear, I've only been back for a few days and I've been in trouble twice."
"What did you do?" laughed Bet. "Tell me about it."
"It wasn't much. Miss Owens sent me to the board with half a dozen others and I was working the problem all right, but I forgot and began to twirl on my toes. Just a few innocent dance steps, you know it makes me think better."
"I was wondering how she ever kept still in school," said Kit, drawing the girl to her.
"She doesn't," whispered Bet. "Between Joy's dancing and my dreaming, those poor teachers have a time of it. We've been telling each other all summer, that we were going to turn over a new leaf."
"And I've broken all my resolutions already."
"We'll have to remember that we are the Merriweather Girls and have something to live up to. That's the trouble with having a club with ambitions and aims and all the rest of it. We have to make good." It was Shirley's quiet counsel.
"Lady Betty would never have danced in school, I'm sure of it!" Joy kissed her finger tips to the portrait.
Bet and Kit both glanced up at the smiling face on the wall and it almost seemed as if the lips twitched with amusement.
"I'm not so sure about that, Joy. Anyone with as much gaiety and spirit as she had must have gotten into plenty of trouble in school," laughed Bet.
"Then I'm sure she tried not to," smiled Shirley, trying to encourage Joy in her resolution. She was always unhappy when any of the girls got into trouble.
"Is Miss Elder as sweet as she was last year?" asked Bet.
"Oh, she's sweeter than ever," exclaimed Joy.
"And Edith?"
"Oh that girl is always with us, to keep us from enjoying life too much. Why don't they send her away to Boarding School or something? She has already gotten two people into trouble by tattling."
"That girl's a pest!" Bet frowned with indignation.
"Lady Betty Merriweather would have won her friendship and changed her whole character," said Kit, gazing into the smiling eyes.
Joy laughed. "You wait until you know Edith Whalen. Then you will see if there is anything that can change her character."
"I must say I feel a little discouraged myself," said Bet, shaking her head.