Part 18 (1/2)

SUSPICION

”Of course we can get supper for everyone,” declared Mrs. Lewis, cordially, when Cora spoke of the determination of the boys to come down upon the Mote for tea. ”We have plenty of food.”

”You are a wonder, Mrs. Lewis,” declared Cora. ”You always have a full larder. I don't see where it comes from, for you don't even use up the budget.”

”It's a matter of experience,” answered Mrs. Lewis. ”When one has to do things, my dear, one learns how. I am so glad we have macaroni cooked. Boys love big, steaming dishes.”

Cora gave a sigh of relief. What a blessing Mrs. Lewis had proven to be! After finding themselves shut out of their house by a trick of the land agents she and her daughter had taken up a permanent residence in the girls' camp. Freda, in spite of all opposition, had installed herself as ”maid.” She insisted on waiting on the table, and attending to rooms, and helping her mother generally, although the girls wanted her to be one of them. Everyone declared that her mother, with her wonderful management and activity, more than made up for Freda being a visitor at the Mote.

Freda seemed happier now than when she shared the little cottage with her mother, but this was easily understood. Under the new arrangement Mrs. Lewis was earning an honest and comfortable living, and Freda was more than willing to a.s.sist her in every way possible. Before, they had lived in constant dread of the land agents putting them out of their home. Even the fact that the sign ”For Sale” had been placed on the cottage did not seem so unbearable, for the girls and boys had insisted that that was only a ”scare” on the part of the land agents, and that while the town constable would not interfere to the extent of taking down the sign, he had promised to investigate the rights of those who put it up.

But town constables are slow and timid when strangers, with big-brimmed hats, and plenty of cigars, come from the city, and order papers signed at so much per sign--for the constable.

The boys had come, and the supper was almost ready. Lottie looked as pretty and as well as ever, for she had dressed in a chic pink frock, and with a pink snood binding her brow looked as fresh as though she had just come from the hands of a beauty specialist. After all, such vigorous treatment and baths of spray as the girls had encountered all that afternoon amounted to just that--beauty treatment; and Lottie was not the only one whose cheeks glowed, and in whose eyes shone the light that comes only from youth and health.

The rumpus that always followed the boys' arrival was in full sway, Jack and Ed chasing Bess around the bungalow to make her give up an imaginary lost scarf pin, while Dray and Walter contented themselves with the less violent exercise of rocking on the front porch, where the other girls were scattered. They certainly were ”scattered,” for there was so much to tell and hear of the afternoon's adventure that each girl chose her own listener and her own corner.

Everyone seemed deeply absorbed in this when Freda appeared at the door with the warning bell. That meant that in five minutes the tea bell would ring--only it was going to be dinner to-night.

”That sounds fine,” Dray told Freda, who in her blue linen sailor suit looked quite as well as the young ladies who put in most of their time ”leisuring.” ”Our Belle is not nearly as aristocratic as that.”

”I hope dinner will bear out the reputation,” Freda replied, a bit shyly, for Dray was somewhat of a stranger to her.

”Dinner will make that reputation immortal,” Jack declared, as he and Ed gave up their chase and joined the others on the porch. ”But h.e.l.lo!

Here comes Denny! And he has no pipe! Something surely is wrong.”

Everyone ceased chattering as Denny Shane appeared on the tan bark path.

”h.e.l.lo, there, Denny!” called Jack, getting up from his porch chair.

”What's up?”

”A-plenty,” answered Denny with a sweep of his cap that took everyone in the greeting. ”Where's the Widder Lewis?”

”Oh, what's the matter, Denny?” asked Freda, aghast. ”Can't you tell me first? You know how weak mother is.”

”'Tis nothing bad,” replied Denny, as he sat down on the bottom step of the porch, in spite of all invitations to come up and have a chair.

He settled his cap more securely on his gray head. ”I just want to--tell her something.”

”But what?” insisted Freda, who now sat beside the old sailor on the step. ”I know all about the business, you know.”

”Do come in, Denny,” pleaded Cora. ”It will be easier to talk in the living room. We young folks can go into the dining room and start our dinner while you settle it all quietly among yourselves.”

”Thank you, Miss,” Denny replied, promptly accepting Cora's invitation.

”That will be the best way, I guess.”

Famished as everyone seemed to be, the visit of Denny somewhat s.h.i.+fted the interest from appet.i.tes, and curiosity strayed from the dining room toward the living room.

”What can have happened?” whispered Belle to Marita. ”Denny looks positively--angry.”