Part 12 (2/2)

and so on. He told John, my chauffeur, about it, and John told me.”

”How silly!” said I, with a laugh for poor lovesick Peter. ”Who is the object of his affection?”

”Some servant girl from the next estate,” replied Mrs. Anderson. ”They carry on their affair through field gla.s.ses and with signals. They think they are having a thrilling romance.”

”Disgusting!” said I. ”How could any girl make such a fool of herself where everybody can see her!”

Mrs. Anderson laughed indulgently, but I could feel her scorn underneath it. ”Some girls will sell every sc.r.a.p of dignity they have for what they consider a good time, my dear,” she said, laying her hand on my arm in a motherly way.

We left Romeo on the barn flouris.h.i.+ng out his messages in the late March suns.h.i.+ne and wandered over to the next estate. There was a new litter of prize bull pups over there and Mrs. Anderson had promised that I should see them before I went home. A creek divided the two estates, which we crossed on a little foot bridge. The path led along beside the creek for a while until the little stream widened out into a beautiful pond, big enough for boating. A pier had been built at one side of the pond, running out into the water. Someone was standing out on the end of the pier, and as we came up we saw that we had discovered the other half of the romance. A girl, with a field gla.s.s held to her eyes and a white flag tied around her right wrist, was signalling in the direction of the Anderson barn, the roof of which was visible in the distance, beyond Mrs.

Anderson's apple orchard.

Something about the girl was familiar, even in the distance, and as we came near I recognized the mink coat that I had seen many times lately.

There was no doubt about it. The girl on the end of the pier was Ethel Harper. I stood still, too much disgusted to speak. Ethel Harper, the daughter of one of the ”first” families, with the best social position in the city, her mother prominent in all great uplift movements, carrying on a vulgar flirtation with Mrs. Anderson's stable boy! So this was the great romance she had been hinting about at various times! Randall--that was the name of the girl she was intimate with; this was the Randall place. She had been coming here so often for the sake of the boy next door. Did she know he was an ignorant servant? I doubted it. Anything in men's clothes set her silly head awhirl. I wished her haughty mother could have seen her then.

Mrs. Anderson suddenly laughed out loud and at that Ethel turned around and saw us. She gave a great start as she recognized me, took a step backward and fell off the end of the pier into the pond, disappearing with a shriek into the deep water.

I slipped out of my coat, threw off my shoes and went in after her. The water was so icy I could hardly swim at first. When I did get hold of her it was a battle royal to get her back to the pier. She was so weighted down by the fur coat and she struggled so fiercely that several times I thought we were both going down. Mrs. Anderson threw us a plank and with its help I finally got her to the pier.

”Now run for your life!” I ordered, my own teeth chattering in my head.

”Drop that wet coat and I'll race you to the house.” She didn't move nearly fast enough to avoid a chill and I took hold of her hand and pulled her along.

Up in a cosy bedroom in the Randall's house we sat up, some hours later, wrapped in blankets, and looked at each other gravely. Mrs. Anderson had been in and talked with Ethel like a big sister about the cheapness of carrying on flirtations with strange boys. Ethel had seen her little affair in its true light, robbed of all romance, and shame had taken hold of her. Mrs. Anderson explained how the gallant Romeo had seen his Juliet fall into the pond and had fled basely in the other direction for fear he would be blamed, making no effort to rescue her, and she might have been drowned if I hadn't fished her out.

Ethel had been frightened out of her wits when she fell into the water; she was still suffering from the shock. She flushed hotly as she caught my glance, and cast down her eyes.

”Thank you, Miss Brewster, for saving my life,” she said rather shame-facedly. Then she went on in a low tone, ”I want to tell you something. I wrote that letter to Mr. Butler,--the one that made mamma so angry.”

”I know,” I answered gravely.

”You knew, and you jumped into the water after me anyway?” she said in a tone of unbelief. ”Why, you might have let me drown as easy as not.”

”O no, I mightn't,” I answered. ”That isn't the way a Camp Fire Girl gets even.”

Ethel was silent a long while. Then she said, ”Will you come back to our house after I have told mother the whole thing? She misses you a lot, says she never had anyone do her work so well as you did it, and she has been in a terrible temper ever since you left.”

”I don't know,” I answered slowly. I had been very deeply hurt and my foolish pride was still on its hind legs.

”Will you please come?” pleaded Ethel, slipping out of her chair and putting her arms around me. ”We can have such good times after your work hours. Please, for my sake, I want you. You're the most wonderful girl I've ever met!”

Old Mr. Pride and I had a final round and we came out with me sitting on his head. ”I'll come back,” I said, slipping my arm around Ethel.

So you see, Katherine, adventure isn't dead, not by any means, even if you do have to take it along with your bread and b.u.t.ter.

Loads of love from your stenographic friend, Sadie Shorthander, once upon a time your

Sahwah.

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