Part 26 (1/2)

When she and the girls entered it, they found it nearly filled with roses. There were no cards except a single one inscribed: ”For the Automobile Girls,” for Miss Sallie was as much an automobile girl as any of the others. The girls selected the bunches of flowers that seemed most suited to their costumes. Miss Sallie and Grace immediately decided on the white roses, Mollie chose the pink ones, looking in her pale blue dress and hat like a little Dresden shepherdess.

In some one's garden a yellow rose bush of the old-fas.h.i.+oned kind must have bloomed for Bab. ”Why!” uttered Miss Sallie, holding up Bab's flowers, from which streamed a long yellow satin bow, ”I have not seen these little yellow garden roses since I was a girl. See how they open out their hearts to everyone! Is that like you, Bab? Be careful how you hold them,” teased Miss Sallie; ”they have a few thorns underneath, and must be gently handled.”

Ruth half suspected Hugh had been the anonymous giver of the flowers, as soon as she discovered her own bunch. They formed a big ball of pale blue hydrangeas, tied with Ruth's especial shade of blue ribbon.

”See!” said Ruth, laughing, and holding them up for the other girls to admire. ”Hugh was not discouraged by the fact that blue flowers are so hard to find. I wouldn't have dreamed that hydrangeas could look so lovely, except on the bush.”

Ruth sat in the front of the box, waiting for her name to be called for her tennis match. She was one of the most popular visitors in Newport; nearly everyone who pa.s.sed her box stopped to wish good luck to her and to Hugh.

”I have seen a good many sights, in my day,” said Miss Sallie, gazing around through her lorgnette, ”but never one more beautiful than this.”

The gra.s.s of the wide lawns was so perfectly trimmed that it looked like a carpet of moss. Over the green there swept a crowd of laughing, happy people, the women in frocks of every delicate color. Even the sober note that men's clothes generally make in a gay throng was missing to-day, for the boys, young and old, wore white flannels and light s.h.i.+rts that rivaled the dresses of the girls in the brightness of their hues.

Tier upon tier of seats rose up around the tennis courts; before the first game was called every one was filled.

”Give me my smelling salts, Grace,” said Miss Sallie, when Ruth and Hugh were called out to commence their game. ”I shall not look at them until the set is over.”

”O Miss Sallie!” declared Ralph, who had quietly slipped into Ruth's place next Barbara. ”I am ashamed of you for not having more courage. I am certain they will win. We shall have two silver cups in this box in the next hour or so.”

Over the heads of the great crowd Barbara could see the Countess Bertouche. She was standing near Mr. and Mrs. Erwin's box, in which sat Governor and Mrs. Post, Gladys and Harry Townsend.

For the first time in her acquaintance with them, Barbara saw Harry Townsend leave his seat and walk across the lawn with the countess.

Evidently she had made some request of him. Not far off Barbara could also see a tall, blond man, with a curly, light mustache, who followed the pair with his eyes and then moved nonchalantly in their direction.

But Harry Townsend was back with his friends in a minute. He had only taken the countess to her place, so that she need not be alone in the crowd.

Ruth and Hugh were easy winners. They had no such tennis battle as they fought the day they earned the right to represent their crowd over the heads of Ralph and Barbara.

”Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted the crowd.

Ruth and Hugh were standing near each other in front of the judges'

stand, where the prizes were awarded.

With a low bow, Mr. Cartwright presented Ruth with a beautiful silver cup and to Hugh another of the same kind. On the outside of each cup was engraved a design of two racquets crossing each other, with the word ”champion” below.

Barbara and Ruth had given up all their interest and thought to the tennis match during the day; but Ruth having won her cup, both girls'

minds turned to the jewel robbery.

Except for the note Bab had received in the morning, she had had no sign nor signal from the two detectives. The Countess Bertouche, apparently as calm and undisturbed as any of the other guests, had been an interested watcher of the tournament.

The girls were late in arriving at the ball. Miss Stuart had insisted on their resting an hour after dinner, and the affair was in full swing when they entered the beautiful Casino ballroom.

”You're just in time for the barn dance, all of you,” called Mrs.

Cartwright. ”We are going to be informal for the next half hour, at least. Come, Ruth, I insist on you and Hugh leading off. You are our special tennis champions. Wasn't it hard luck that I didn't win, when my husband was a judge?”

”Miss Thurston,” said Harry Townsend, turning suddenly to Barbara, ”won't you dance with me?”

Barbara's hands turned cold as ice and her cheeks suddenly flamed. She hated to dance with a man whom she knew to be of the character of Harry Townsend. Yet how could she refuse?