CHAPTER V
AN UNTIMELY LETTER
For three days after that eventful night Tavia was obliged to keep to her room. She had a fever – from a cold the doctor thought – nothing contagious he was positive – but, as a precautionary measure Dorothy was given another room, until the fever should be entirely broken.
But the two friends were not to be separated much longer, for Tavia had quite recovered now, and was up and about her room, receiving notes and flowers from the girls, and recuperating generally.
“The first good rest I’ve had in months,” Tavia told Dorothy, as they sat together again on the little window seat, looking out on the tennis court.
“I do really believe you look better than you did before you were taken ill,” agreed Dorothy, giving her friend a look of unmistakable admiration.
“That’s lucky for me,” Tavia replied with something that sounded like a sigh.
“Why?” asked Dorothy in some surprise.
“Oh, nothing,” was the answer, given rather evasively. “But a girl can’t afford to get scrawny. Fancy yourself slinking down like a cornstalk in the fall! Why, even the unapproachable Dorothy Dale could not well stand the slinking process, to say nothing of an ordinary gawk like me going through it,” and Tavia slyly looked into the mirror. She evidently had some particular reason for being so anxious about her good looks.
Dorothy had been noticing this peculiarity of Tavia’s for some time – she had been so extreme about her toilet articles – using cold cream to massage her face daily, then brushing her hair ardently every night, to say nothing of the steam baths she had been giving her face twice a week.
All this seemed very strange to Dorothy, but when she laughed at Tavia’s new-found pastimes the latter declared she was going to look nice for the summer; and that any girl who did not take care of herself externally was quite as blamable as she who neglected the hidden beauty of heart or brain.
And there was no denying that the “grooming” added much to the charms of Tavia’s personality. Her hair was now wonderfully glossy, her cheeks delicately pink, her arms round and her hands so shapely! All this, applied to a girl who formerly protested against giving so much as half an hour daily to her manicure needs!
Dorothy was anxious to have a serious talk with Tavia, but considered it too soon after her illness to bring about that conversation, so she only smiled now as Tavia set all her creams and stuffs in a row, then stretched herself out “perfectly flat to relax,” as the book directions called for. Fancy Tavia doing a thing like that!
“When I dare – that is as soon as that old Rip Van Winkle of a doctor lets me off,” said Tavia suddenly, “I’m going to get a set of exercisers for myself. I don’t believe we have half enough muscle work.”
“Why, my dear, one would imagine you were training for the circus ring,” said Dorothy laughing.
“Hardly,” replied the other. “I never was keen on bouncing, and circus turns all end with a bounce in the net. Those nets make me creepy – a mattress for mine when on the rebound. Have you been to the post-office?”
“No, but I’m going. Want any stamps?”
“No. But if – if you get a letter for me I wish you wouldn’t put it into Mrs. Pangborn’s box – I expect a little note from a girl, and I’m sure it need not be censored, as the rest of the letters are.”
“But the rule,” Dorothy reminded her gently.
“I believe the United States postal laws are of more importance than the silly, baby rules of Glenwood school,” snapped Tavia with unexpected hauteur, “and it’s against the law for one person to open the letters of another.”
“But Mrs. Pangborn takes the place of our mothers – she is really our guardian when we enter her school. We agree to the rules before we are taken in.”
“No, we were ‘taken in’ when we agreed to the rules,” persisted the other. “Now, as it’s your turn to do the post office this week, I think you might do me a little favor – I assure you the letter I expect is not from some boy. Other girls can smuggle boys’ letters in, and yet I can’t contrive to get a perfectly personal note from a perfectly sensible girl, without the missive being – passed upon by – google-eyed Higley!”
“Oh, Tavia! And she was so kind to you when you were sick.”
“Was she? Then she ought to keep it up, and leave my letters alone!”
“Well,” sighed Dorothy rising, “I must go for the mail at any rate.”
“And you won’t save my one little letter?”
“How could I?” Dorothy pleaded.
“Then if you do get it – see it among the others – couldn’t you leave it there? I will be able to walk down to the post office myself tomorrow.”
“But you couldn’t get the mail.”
“Oh, yes I could,” and Tavia tossed her head about defiantly.
Dorothy was certainly in a dilemma. But she was almost due at the post-office, and could not stay longer to argue, so, clapping on her hat, she bade Tavia good-bye for a short time.
“It palls on me,” Tavia told herself, as she again approached the glass and took up the cold cream jar. “Who would ever believe that I would stoop so low! To deceive my own darling Dorothy! And to make a fool of myself with this ‘mugging’ as Nat would say.”
She dropped heavily into a chair. The thought of Dorothy and Nat had a strange power over the girl – she seemed ashamed to look at her own face when the memory of her dearest friends brought her back again to the old time Tavia – the girl free from vanity and true as steel to Dorothy Dale.
“But the letter,” thought Tavia, recovering herself. “If that letter gets into Mrs. Pangborn’s hands!”
Again she buried her face in her arms. Something seemed to sway her, first one way, then the other. What had caused her to change so in those last few short months? Why were her words so hollow now? Her own “copyrighted” slang no longer considered funny, even by those girls most devoted to her originality? And why, above all else, had she fallen ill after that queer dream about making-up with the cold cream and the red crayon?
“I’m afraid my mind was not built for secrets,” she concluded, “and if I keep on moping this way I can’t say what will happen next.”
Meanwhile Dorothy was making her way back from the village with the letters including one addressed to Octavia Travers. She had determined not to make any attempt at giving the note to Tavia without the school principal’s knowledge, for, somehow she feared Tavia’s honesty in such matters, and, although Dorothy felt certain that Tavia would do nothing she really believed to be wrong, she was afraid her chum might be misled by some outside influence.
With a heavy heart Dorothy laid the mail down on Mrs. Pangborn’s desk. That lady was just coming into the office as Dorothy was about to leave.
“Wait, dear,” said Mrs. Pangborn, “until I see if there is any mail for the girls in your corridor. How is Octavia to-day? I hope she will be able to go out by Sunday. Here, I guess this is a letter for her.” Dorothy almost turned pale as the principal took up the small blue envelope. “Just take it to her – perhaps it will cheer her up,” and she handed Dorothy the missive without attempting to open it or question the postmark. “There, I guess that is all I can give you,” and she put the others in her desk. “Tell Tavia I am anxious to see her out of doors again, and I hope her letter will have good news for her.”
Dorothy turned away with a smile of thanks, not venturing to say a word. She held the blue envelope in her hand, as if it was some tainted thing, for she well knew that the missive was not from home, the postmark “Rochester” standing out plainly on the stamped corner.
Tavia saw her coming, and quickly caught sight of the envelope in her hand.
“There, you old darling!” she exclaimed, giving Dorothy a vigorous hug. “I knew you would bring it to me. How you did ever manage it?”
“Mrs. Pangborn sent it with kind wishes that it might contain good news,” stammered Dorothy. “I made no attempt to get it to you without her knowledge.”
“She had it? And gave it back to you? Why, Dorothy, if she had – but of course it would not really have mattered,” and Tavia slipped the letter into her blouse. “I’m awfully obliged. Did you hear from home?”
“No,” answered Dorothy simply, a flush covering her fair face as she saw Tavia hide the letter. “I’m going out for a few minutes – so you may read that very important note, Tavia.”
CHAPTER VI
ON THE LAWN
“When I was a very small girl,” exclaimed Mollie Richards, otherwise known as Dick, “I used to hope I would die young so I could escape the tooth-filling process, but here I am, doing these dreadful exams, and I haven’t died yet.”
“Never despair,” quoted Rose-Mary. “The worst is yet to come.”
“Cheer up, fellows,” lisped little Nita Brandt, “We’ve been promised a clam-bake when it’s all over.”
“Yes, I fancy it will be all over with me when that clam-bake arrives,” sighed Edna Black. “Since Tavia has ‘turned turtle’ I don’t even have the fun of sneezing for exercise.”
“It’s an ill wind – and so on,” ventured Dick. “That was a most abominable habit of yours – sneezing when you were too lazy to open your mouth to laugh.”
“But I never would have believed that Tavia would get so – so – ”
“Batty,” finished Amy Brooks. “It’s slang, but I know of no English word into which the explicit ‘batty’ may be translated.”
“And Tavia of all girls,” added Ned, ponderingly.
“But it seems to agree with her,” declared Cologne. “Haven’t you noticed her petal complexion?”
“Too much like the drug store variety,” objected Nita. “I like something more substantial.”
“Sour grapes,” fired back Ned, who could always be depended on to take Tavia’s part. “Yours is so perfect – ”
“Oh, I know – freckles,” admitted the confused Nita with a pout. “Fair skins always freckle.”
“Then why don’t you close the ‘fair’ and raffle off,” suggested Dick. “Much easier than sleeping in lemon juice every night.”
“Molly Richards, you’re too smart!” snapped the abused one.
“Not altogether so,” replied Dick. “At least this abominable French can’t prove it. I have always believed that the only way to acquire a good French accent would be to get acute tonsilitis. Then one might choke out the gutterals beautifully.”
The girls of Glenwood school were supposed to be busy preparing for examinations. They had congregated in little knots, out of doors, scattering under the leafing oaks, and the temptation to gossip was evidently more than mere girls could withstand amid such surroundings.
“There’s Dorothy now,” announced Cologne, as the latter turned into the path.
“Yes, and there’s Tavia,” followed Ned, showing keen pleasure as the late absent one made her appearance on the lawn.
“Now we will have a chance to study her complex – ” lisped Nita with rather a malicious tone.
“Suit you better to study your complex – verbs,” snapped Ned, while Tavia and Dorothy came up at that moment.
Profuse greetings were showered upon Tavia, for the girls were well pleased to have her back with them, and it must be admitted that every eye which turned toward her came back in an unanimous vote “beautiful.” Even Nita did not dare cast a dissenting glance – she could not, for indeed Tavia had improved wonderfully, as we have seen, under the “grooming.”
Her hazel eyes shown brighter than ever in her clear peach-blow skin, her hair was not now “too near red” as Nita had been in the habit of declaring, but a true chestnut brown, and as “glossy as her new tan shoes,” whispered Ned to Cologne.
Tavia wore her brown gingham dress, and much to the surprise of her companions, had “her neck turned in.”
“What happened to your collar?” asked Dick, with a merry twinkle in her eyes.
“I happened to it,” answered Tavia promptly. “No sense in having one’s neck all marked up from collars – going about advertising capital punishment.”
“Behold the new woman! We will make her president of our peace conference. But of course we would not expect her to settle her own ‘squabs’ with Nita. We will have a committee of subs, for that department of the work,” said Cologne as she made room for Dorothy at her side, being anxious to get a private word with her. Tavia found a place between Ned and Dick, and soon the others were at least pretending to be at their books, realizing that too much time had already been wasted on outside matters.
The morning typified one of those rare days in June, and the girls on the lawn were like human spring blossoms – indeed what is more beautiful than a wholesome, happy young girl?
She need not be especially beautiful in feature, for health and happiness make her irresistible to the real student of beauty, and the wonderful charm of human life seems nowhere to be so perfectly depicted as in the personality of a young girl.
“At last,” announced Lena Berg, rolling over as the bell for recreation sounded, ending the period of open-air study usually allowed at this season.
Instantly the others were on their feet, and, as quickly had paired off for their favorite pastime. Ned and Tavia were together, Dorothy was with Cologne, and the others had selected their companions to suit their particular fancy.
“Say, Parson,” began Cologne, using the name made for Dorothy from her initials “D. D.,” and placing her arm about Dorothy’s waist, “we’ve got a great scheme on. We’re going swimming!”
“Swimming!” Dorothy almost screamed.
“Exactly that,” insisted Cologne. “Mrs. Pangborn has given the permission and we are to go to Squinty Lake to-morrow afternoon.”
“Squinty Lake?” echoed Dorothy in surprise.
“Well, they call it Sunset, you know, but Ned declares it is ‘Squinty’ as no one can look out of the front of her eyes on the shores of it. But isn’t it too giddy – to go swimming so early. And to think that Higley is the best swimmer of the respected faculty. Now if our dear little Camille Crane were here – Feathers, you know. But I don’t suppose she will be back to the bench this season. Wasn’t it too bad she should break down?” rattled on Cologne. “But for the swimming! Aren’t you perfectly delighted? You haven’t said a single word.”
“Why I haven’t had a chance,” replied Dorothy laughing. “Of course it is lovely to think you can go.”
“I can go! Aren’t you going?”
“I don’t believe so. Tavia is so fond of swimming, and I am sure she would not dare go in the water so soon after her fever. So I guess I’ll stay home to keep her company.”
“Oh, you silly!” exclaimed Cologne. “Why should you stay out on her account?” and, possibly there was a note of jealousy in the girl’s tone, and a hint of it in her manner. “I’m very sure she wouldn’t do as much for you.”
“Indeed she would, Cologne,” Dorothy hurried to say. “You have no idea how kind Tavia can be and has been to me. Why, when I was sick home in Dalton, she stayed with me night and day.”
“Well, I can’t see why you shouldn’t go in bathing when you get a chance. Precious seldom the chance comes at Glenwood.”
“I suppose Mrs. Pangborn has hired the beach,” ventured Dorothy.
“Yes, worse luck. Afraid any one would see our orphan asylum bathing suits.”
“Indeed, I think those brown suits very pretty,” objected Dorothy. “I thought so when I saw them taken out this spring. Of course I have never worn one.”
“Of course you haven’t,” agreed Cologne. “That’s why you like ’em, but you should try to swim dog fashion in one of those knickerbockers. The skirts are built for hoops, but they seemed to run short of goods on the bloomers.”
“But it is awfully good of Mrs. Pangborn to provide for bathing when we will soon be at our own summer quarters for it.”
“Yes, I admitted that much at the start, if you will remember. But, really, Doro, you had better make up your mind to go in. It’s all nonsense to stay out to keep Tavia company. I’m sure she would rather see you in the swim.”
“I’ll see,” answered Dorothy, as they turned back into the path that led to the Hall.
CHAPTER VII
AT SUNSET LAKE
The day following proved to be one of those exceptionally warm days that occasionally come at the end of June, with the express purpose, it would seem, of making life unbearable for those engaged in finishing up a term at school. All the morning the Glenwood pupils lived on the thoughts of the promised swim, to come that afternoon. When dismissal hour did finally drag around little attention was paid to luncheon, all minds and hearts being set on the jaunt to Sunset Lake. This was a summer resort not far from the school, and there was a good sandy stretch for bathing. The season had hardly opened yet, and Mrs. Pangborn was thus able to hire for that afternoon the exclusive right of the sandy shore for her pupils.
Dorothy and Tavia were to go, although neither expected to take the lake bath, for Dorothy was firm in her resolve to stay with Tavia, and so forego one of her favorite pastimes, for Dorothy Dale was counted an excellent swimmer.
In high glee the party started off, under the chaperonage of Miss Higley, and even those pupils who insisted that she was “a bear” were forced to admit that, on this occasion, she was “as meek as a lamb.” The fact was that Miss Higley loved swimming, and knew she was expert at the exercise. So the promised sport was especially welcome to her.
Along the shady road to the lake Dorothy laughed and chatted as merrily as did the others, but Tavia was inclined to pout. She had begged to be allowed to go into the water, declaring that she was entirely recovered and that the swim would do her good. But Mrs. Pangborn would not consent, so Tavia was to take what enjoyment she could derive from watching the others.
When the Glenwood girls reached Sunset Beach the entrance gate to the bathing grounds was locked against all outsiders. A row of bathing houses was placed at the disposal of the young ladies, and there was a matron in attendance. In fact, the pleasure grounds were turned over entirely to Mrs. Pangborn’s pupils and the presence of the white-aproned attendant gave the place a look of the utmost propriety. On this occasion, likewise, the life guard was banished, and, as Dick expressed it, “there never was a man in sight when the girls in brown took their annual.”
While the others were “making themselves frog-like” in the aforementioned suits, Dorothy and Tavia established themselves in an old boat on the shore of the lake.
It was their first visit to the resort as it was their first summer term at Glenwood, and the two girls were charmed with the pretty, picturesque surroundings.
“Not much like our pond in Dalton,” Tavia observed, viewing the placid lake with its great open expanse of sunlit waters.
“No, but that was a splendid little pond for swimming,” Dorothy reminded her companion, never relishing any aspersions thrown in the direction of “dear old Dalton.”
Soon some of the girls appeared on the little boardwalk bordering the lake, and, in unheard of politeness, waited for Miss Higley to come out and take the first plunge. That formality being over there was a wild rush for the water, each one of the girls expecting to have a better time than any of the others.
Nita Brandt and Adele Thomas had not yet learned to swim, so these two were provided with a pair of water-wings to support them, and they “floundered around like a couple of ferry boats,” Tavia declared, as they made all sorts of vain attempts to strike out like the others.
Dick and Cologne were soon engaged in a race, from one float to the other, doing the overhand stroke, and making a fine showing for the first of the season efforts.
“You’re exceeding the speed limit!” shouted Tavia from the boat, as she stood up in the stern and viewed the race with unconcealed interest.
“Get out of the way!” called a dozen voices as the twain with their water-wings anchored directly in Dick’s course.
But the girls floating on the wings could not get upon their feet for they were in water about up to their heads. Every effort they made to touch bottom seemed to send their faces down, while simultaneously two pair of stockings would shoot up above the surface of the lake.
Miss Higley instantly realized that Nita and Adele were out too far – that they were beyond their depth and therefore in danger should the wings (which were muslin bags blown up) burst or slip from under their arms. She did not wait to see the result of the race, but struck out for the now thoroughly frightened girls, who were calling in vain for some one to help them to shore.
As Miss Higley reached them, Dick and Cologne, who had not grasped the situation, came gliding up to the same spot, almost side by side, working earnestly, each to outdistance the other in reaching the float which was the goal.
“Here!” shouted Miss Higley to them. “Stop! Never mind the race! Help get these two girls in. They’re exhausted!”
The two swimmers veered around to Nita and Adele. Yes, Nita was gasping! She had evidently swallowed considerable water. And Adele could not attempt another stroke – her limbs seemed paralyzed.
Without speaking, thinking to save her breath for the struggle, Cologne took a position between the badly frightened girls, while Miss Higley and Dick swung around so that each could grasp an arm, one of Nita and the other of Adele. In this manner the three swimmers towed to shore those who had ventured too far on the water-wings.
For a few minutes there was plenty of excitement at Sunset Beach, everyone gathering around the rescued ones, suggesting both restoratives and punishments to close the incident.
Miss Higley quietly waited for the girls to recover their breaths and other faculties that had been temporarily suspended during the mishap, and then asked why they had ventured out so far.
“We didn’t,” gulped Nita. “We just stayed perfectly still and we kept going along.”
“Well,” finished Miss Higley, “you must not again get on those wings without some one at hand to help you, or until you can manage them better. I’m thankful nothing worse happened.”
So Nita and Adele, much chagrined and more disappointed, were obliged to spend the remainder of their swimming time with Dorothy and Tavia on the beach, as wading did not suit them after their attempt at swimming, unsuccessful as it had proven.
As the afternoon waned the interest in the water exercise grew keener, and those who could trust themselves were indulging in all sorts of “stunts,” sliding down an inclined wooden chute, and diving from a spring board. Miss Higley posted herself near the danger line, realizing that she must act as guard and look out for the safety of the swimmers.
Presently some one suggested an endurance trial, and this attracted almost all the girls away from the chute over toward the stretch of deep water.
But Edna Black did not join the racers. She had never before tried “shooting the chutes” and was infatuated with the sport. Time after time she climbed the little ladder and as quickly slid down the curved, inclined plank into the water again. Dorothy and Tavia were watching her from the shore, calling to her in merry nonsense and joking about her sliding propensities.
“Going down!” called Tavia as Edna took one more slide.
They waited – but she did not come up!
Miss Higley, too, was watching for the young diver’s re-appearance.
Ten – twenty – she counted, but Edna did not come up. Then, from the very top of the slide, where she had taken her position some time before to better watch all the girls, Miss Higley dove into the water after Edna, cleaving the fifteen feet of distance from the surface like a flash.
Dorothy and Tavia stood breathless – watching for either Miss Higley or Edna to come to the top.
It seemed ages – yes, it was too long to stay under water. What had happened to Miss Higley? Where was Edna?
An instant later, Dorothy and Tavia – without exchanging a word – kicked off their slippers and were in the water! There was no time to call to the girls farther out. Not a swimmer was near enough to offer help!
Their light summer clothing seemed to make little difference to these two country girls, who had learned to swim in Dalton pond, and, in a few seconds, both had reached the spot where Edna and the teacher had disappeared.
Tavia was the first to dive, and, in a few seconds she came up with Edna, white and unconscious, in her arms.
“Hold her – while I try – for Miss Higley!” cried Dorothy, as Tavia, supporting her burden on one arm and grasped the cross bar of the chute with her other and yelled for help.
Dorothy was now under water, groping for the other lost one. But she had to come up for air without bringing Miss Higley.
Down she went again, taking a long breath and determining to remain under until she could get a grip on the clothing of the teacher. Now the others were close at hand to assist Tavia in caring for Edna. Down and down Dorothy went, the water gurgling in her ears – down and down into the depths.
It seemed as if she could not stand the strain and pressure. A trail of bubbles and a swirl of the surface of the lake marked where she had disappeared.
Rose-Mary and Dick were the first to reach Tavia, and they at once took charge of the unconscious one, floating her to shore between them. Then others came up to the chute, white, frightened and trembling at the news Tavia gasped out to them. So alarmed were they that none of them dared venture to help Dorothy down there in the blackness and silence, at her grewsome task.
Tavia, as soon as she had recovered her breath, had started off to assist Dick and Rose-Mary in bringing Edna to shore, as the task was no light one for the three swimmers. Then, as she got into shallow water Tavia turned, suddenly remembering something, and shouted to the girls about the chute:
“Go for Dorothy! She is under there, looking for Miss Higley!”
But, as one or two of the braver girls, feeling the need of action, prepared to dive, they saw the pale face of Dorothy Dale come to the surface, and they saw that, in her arms, she held clasped the form of Miss Higley. But the hand that Dorothy stretched out to grasp the bottom of the chute, that she might support herself and the inert burden, just failed to catch hold of the wooden brace, and, amid a swirl of waters Dorothy went down again, out of sight, with the unconscious teacher.