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The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point; or a Wreck and a Rescue, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 6. Life And Death |
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_ CHAPTER VI. LIFE AND DEATH The next morning Betty awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing imperatively in the hall. She got up, dragged the instrument from its stand and spoke drowsily into the receiver. "Hello--who--why, Grace, how did you happen to wake up?--Why, Grace, what is the matter, dear?--You have heard what?--Will is wounded?--Oh, Honey, how awful! Is it serious?--Never mind, don't try to tell me about it now. I'll get dressed just as fast as I can and come right over--Yes, yes, in about five minutes." Mechanically Betty replaced the receiver on the hook and hurried back into her room. Then swiftly she began to dress. Will! Dear old Will was wounded! That had been about all she had been able to gather from Grace's sobbing message--but that was enough. He was the first of the boys to fall out there in the trenches, and who knew but what Allen might be the next! And here only yesterday they had been so happy, as happy as they could be with that shadow always hanging over them. This was the day, too--the incongruous thought struck Betty as she hastily pulled on her clothing--the day they had set for their trip to Bluff Point. Well, of course, it was all off now. Who wanted to go anyway? These thoughts and many more raced through Betty's head as she put the finishing touches to her toilet and crushed a garden hat on her pretty soft hair. She was a very attractive picture as she ran down the stairs, but she neither knew it nor cared. "Why, Betty dear, what is the meaning of the hat?" her mother inquired, smiling as her young daughter burst into the dining room. "You don't need it to eat breakfast in, you know. Who called on the 'phone?" "I'm not going to eat breakfast, at least not right away. But there, of course, you don't know," answering her mother's look of surprise. "Grace called up and, oh, Mother, poor Will has been wounded! I don't want to c-cry," her chin quivered and she turned away for a moment to get control of the lump in her throat. "I know, dear," said her mother, putting an understanding arm about her, "and so I'm not going to offer very much sympathy--just now. Were you going over to see Grace, poor child?" Betty squeezed her mother's hand gratefully and nodded. "I'll be back in a little while," she said finally, getting the better of that annoying lump. "I just want to find out all about it and give Grace my sympathy." And the Little Captain found poor Grace in need of all the sympathy she could possibly give her. She was sitting in the darkest corner of the library, all crumpled up in a big chair, her eyes red with weeping and a damp ball of handkerchief clutched tightly in one hand. At sight of Betty running toward her, she began to sob again, the tears running down her face unnoticed. "Betty, Betty, I knew you'd come," she cried, as Betty knelt beside her and put two loving arms about her. "I'm so m-miserable I just don't want to live at all." "But, Honey, it isn't nearly as bad as it might be," said Betty, trying to sooth while wanting desperately to know herself just how bad it was. "You said he was only wounded, didn't you?" "That's what the telegram said," Grace answered, wiping her eyes drearily. "But how do we know but what he may be dead by this time?" "We don't know, of course," returned Betty, recovering a little of her optimism while she unostentatiously handed Grace a fresh handkerchief, "but the chances are against it." "But perhaps they said he was just wounded to l-let us down easy," cried Grace, evidently convinced that there was no bright side to look upon. "The Government doesn't do that; it hasn't time," argued Betty. "It always lets you know the worst at once." A gleam of hope came into Grace's eyes. "Then you think there's a chance?" she queried, sitting up straight and beginning to look a little more interested in life. "Do you think he may get well?" "Why, of course," said Betty, adding reasonably: "If you would tell me just what the telegram said, I'd have more to go on." "That's all it said--what I told you," replied Grace, relaxing wearily. "Just said that he was wounded--nothing more. Dad is writing to Washington to try to get more news. Of course, he has a great deal of influence, being a lawyer with a good many friends in Washington, and he may be able to find out something. I don't know." "Here come Mollie and Amy," said Betty, glancing through the window. "I guess," she added thoughtfully, "Amy probably feels pretty bad too." "But she's not his sister," cried Grace, with a sudden flare-up of jealousy that made Betty smile in spite of her heartache. She could not help wondering how Grace would have taken it if it had been Roy instead of Will who had been wounded. But Grace's little fit of jealousy did not last long at sight of Amy's drawn, white face and the traces of tears in her eyes. Instead, she opened her arms to this other girl who was not Will's sister, yet loved him too, and for a moment they cried on each others shoulders. Meanwhile Betty and Mollie wandered over to the window and stood looking thoughtfully out upon the lawn and not seeing any of it. "Goodness!" said Mollie after a moment, shrugging her shoulders a little impatiently, "of course, it's terrible to have Will wounded, and I can imagine Grace being all cut up about it, but she--and Amy too--act as if he were dead." "I know," said Betty softly, then added, looking a little quizzically at Mollie; "But you know I don't blame them so much when I try putting myself in their place. Of course we love Will, but suppose it had been Allen, for instance, or Frank." Mollie started and uttered a little cry of protest. "Oh, but that would be different," she said weakly, then catching Betty's eye, added soberly: "I see what you mean, of course. I suppose I would act just the same, under different circumstances." However, having had their cry out and feeling better and much more cheerful in consequence, Grace and Amy called to them and they crossed the room quickly. "We've decided," said Amy then, "that, since we can't find out any more until Mr. Ford hears from Washington, we might as well make the best of it." "And we want to talk about our trip," Grace added. "Our trip?" echoed Mollie. "Why I thought of course we would give that up." "I did too," explained Grace. "But when I spoke of it to Dad, he said we were to do nothing of the kind. He said we couldn't do poor Will"--in spite of all her resolution her voice broke on the name--"any good by staying at home and moping, and that he would let us know as soon as he had any authentic word from Washington. And he insists on mother's going too." And so it happened that a few hours later a very sober group of Outdoor Girls started on what should have been a joyful trip, with heavy hearts and gloomy foreboding. Even the new racer did not serve to liven the party. The only time they laughed was when they found Dodo and Paul, the incorrigible twins, hidden away under some raincoats in Mollie's car. "Oh, but we want to go 'long," Dodo protested vehemently when discovered. "We just got to go 'long," Paul had added. "No, you mustn't 'got to,'" Mollie contradicted them, while the others looked on amused. "Come, Dodo, honey, be a good girl for sister and come down. You too, Paul. We're in an awful hurry." "But we not goin' to come down," Dodo insisted. "'Less," Paul added diplomatically, "we get tandies." "Lots of tandies," Dodo supplemented. "Here, take these," Grace offered, holding out a box of sweets which, despite all her trouble, she had not forgotten. "Don't give them the box--just take out a few," Mollie suggested, but Grace insisted, while her face clouded again. "I don't want them, anyway. I don't know why I took them. Habit, I suppose." However, hope and optimism did not consent to be kept long in the background on such a day as this when the sun shone its brightest and the birds sang their hardest and the very wind seemed to be whispering of happier times to come. "Well," sighed Amy at last, for she and Mrs. Ford were riding in Mollie's car, while Grace was with Betty in the racer, "it's plain to be seen that nature at least doesn't know that anything horrible or cruel is happening 'over there.' I don't think I ever saw a more wonderful day." "Maybe it is a good omen," said Mollie, quick to seize her opportunity. "I feel it in my bones that it won't be long before we will hear good news of Will--and you know my prophetic bones never lie." "I don't know anything of the sort," protested Amy, although the remark brought a reluctant smile to her lips. "I've known those same prophetic bones to slip up before this." "Which reminds me," Mollie cried, apropos of nothing in particular, "that if we don't put on more speed we'll not reach our destination before dark. I wonder why Betty doesn't hurry," for Betty and Grace in the speedy little racer were taking the lead. She signaled the latter with three long and three short toots of the horn. A moment later the racer slowed down and Betty turned around to see what was wanted. "You're too slow," cried Mollie. "If you don't go a little faster, we'll have to run over you." "Oh-ho, look who's talking!" gibed the Little Captain, adding wickedly: "We were afraid to speed up for fear of leaving you too far behind." "Now I know we'll have to run over you," cried Mollie fiercely. "Toot, toot--out of my way!" But Betty evidently had no intention of getting out of anybody's way, for with a challenging blast of her horn she put the little car at high and it sprang forward gleefully. Behind her, Mollie's car, like a big cat after a mouse, gave exultant chase, fairly eating up the road. And yet Betty maintained the distance between them--even drew away a little. "Goodness," cried Mollie suddenly, her eyes sparkling, "I may be mistaken, but I think she wants a race!" _ |
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