Part 6 (2/2)
Babbie's horse plunged again.
”Can we wade to sh.o.r.e?” asked the groom, when something like order was restored.
”Easy. You see I knew the river was awful low, but I s'posed----”
”The only thing that I can think of,” interrupted the groom, ”is for us to leave you girls with the horses, while we get to sh.o.r.e. Then you send 'em off one by one, and we'll catch 'em. Miss Hildreth, you send yours first. No, Miss Wales, you send mine first, then Miss Hildreth's may follow better. I'm awfully sorry to make you young ladies so much trouble.”
”Oh, it doesn't matter,” said Babbie bravely, shaking the water out of her eyes. ”Only--do hurry, please.”
The ”easy wading” proved to be through water up to a man's shoulders, and it lightened twice, with the usual consequences to Babbie's horse, before the groom signaled. His horse went off easily enough, but Babbie's balked and then reared, and Betty's lay down first and then kicked viciously, when she and Babbie between them had succeeded in getting him to stand up. Finally Madeline broke her crop in getting him over the side, and when Black Beauty had also been sent ash.o.r.e the ferry lurched a little and floated.
”Do you suppose we shall ever get dry again?” asked Eleanor lightly, while they waited for the ferryman to come back to them.
Babbie touched her black coat gingerly. ”Am I wet?” she whispered to Betty. ”Of course I am, but I'd forgotten it.” The reins had cut one of her hands through her heavy glove, but she had forgotten that too, as she s.h.i.+vered and clung to the railing that Black Beauty had splintered when he went over. All she could think of was the horror of riding that plunging, foam-flecked horse home.
The ferryman took them to his house, which was the nearest one to the landing; and while he and the groom rubbed down the horses, his wife and little daughter made more coffee for the girls and helped them wring out their dripping clothes.
Babe pretended to find vast enjoyment in watching the water trickle off her skirts and gaiters. Christy, who rode bare-headed, declared that she had gotten a beautiful shampoo free of charge. Even Babbie smiled faintly and called attention to the ”mountain tarn” splas.h.i.+ng about in the brim of her tri-corn hat.
”I tell ye, them girls air game,” declared the ferryman watching them ride off as soon as the storm was over. ”That little slim one on the bay mare is a corker. Her horse cut up somethin' awful. They all offered to change with her, but she said she guessed she could manage. Look at the way she sets an' pulls. She's got grit all right. I guess I'll have to make out to have you go to college, Annie.”
Whereupon little Annie spent a rapturous evening dreaming of the time when she should be a Harding girl, and be able to say bright, funny things like Miss Ayres. She resolved to wear her hair like Miss Watson and to have a pleasant manner like Miss Wales, and above all to be ”gritty” like Miss Hildreth. For the present evening the fiercest steed she could find to subdue was an arithmetic lesson. Annie hated arithmetic, but in the guise of a plunging bay mare, that it took grit to ride, she rather enjoyed forcing the difficult problems to come out right.
Meanwhile the riding party had reached the campus, a little later and a little wetter than most of their friends, and they were provided with hot baths and hot drinks, and put to bed, where they lay in sleepy comfort enjoying the feeling of being heroines.
Very soon after dinner Betty got tired of being a heroine, and when Georgia Ames appeared and announced that a lot of freshmen were making fudge in her room and wished Betty would come and have some and tell them all about her experiences, she looked anxiously at Helen Adams, who was the only person in the room just then.
”It's awfully good fudge--got marshmallows in it, and nuts,” urged Georgia. ”They want Miss Adams too.”
”Can I come in a kimono?” asked Betty. ”I'm too tired to dress.”
”Of course. Only----” Georgia hesitated.
”There's a man in the parlor, calling on Polly Eastman. And the folding doors are stuck open. I wish my room wasn't down on that floor. You have to be so careful of your appearance.”
Betty frowned. ”I want awfully to come. Can't you two think of a way?”
”Why of course,” cried Georgia gleefully, after a moment's consideration. ”We'll hold a screen around you. The man will know that something queer is inside it, but he can't see what.”
So the procession started, Helen and Georgia carrying the screen. At the top of the last flight, they adjusted it around Betty, and began slowly to make the descent. At the curve Georgia looked down into the hall and stopped, in consternation.
”They've moved out into the hall,” she whispered. ”No--this is Lucile Merrifield and another man. We've got to go right past them.”
”Let's go back,” whispered Betty.
”But they've seen us,” objected Helen, ”and you'd miss the fudge.”
A moment later, three girls and a j.a.panese screen fell through Georgia's door into the midst of an amazed freshmen fudge party.
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