The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks 4 – Brownell · Verses Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks 4"Watch Your Step!"
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Nowadays Girls in the Adirondacks 4
"Watch Your Step!"
BrownellEnglish
Rose caught her breath sharply, as Sylvia swept, with a slithering of her silken skirts, to the extension telephone in the reception hall. And even as she prepared to listen and speak over the wire, the girl had a cautioning thought.
"You didn't tell mother; did you, James?" she asked, in a whisper.
"No, Miss Pursell. The message was for you."
"I know. That's right. Still I thought----Hello!" she interrupted herself to speak into the transmitter. "Yes, this is Miss Pursell. Oh, it's you, Mr. Montray. Oh, yes, I----"
The door swung shut, closing Sylvia away from her chums, and they only heard the murmur of her voice as she talked. Rose arose and paced nervously to and from a certain window. She wondered if the message concerned her.
Presently Sylvia rejoined her friends. There was a glow on her face, a happy glint in her eyes, and something in her whole bearing that told them it was good news, and not bad, even before she spoke. Gaily she cried:
"Roy is much better!"
"Oh, I'm so glad!" breathed Rose, and her complexion vied with her name.
"Were you talking to him?" asked Alice, as she turned an emerald ring on her finger--an emerald that caused much wonder among strangers as to where she had obtained it, for it was a most beautiful stone. But, perhaps unromantically enough, a maternal aunt had bequeathed it to Alice.
"No, I wasn't talking to Roy, but to his friend, Harry Montray," replied Sylvia. "He said he knew we would be anxious after the telegram of yesterday, so, as he happened to be near a long-distance telephone, he called up, instead of telegraphing. He wanted to explain certain things."
"About Roy?" asked Hazel.
"Of course, Baby! What else?" Sylvia's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, I didn't know," and she tried to seem indifferent.
"But tell us the news!" begged Rose.
"That's so. Don't keep her in suspense," suggested Alice, as she held the cool emerald against her cheek, as Nero is said to have held one against his eye, perhaps better to see, or, perhaps, to make him more dissatisfied with life by imparting a green tint to the complexions of his flatterers.
"Yes, Roy is much better," went on his sister. "That little depression of the day before seemed to be but a passing nervous spell."
"But is he better--all well?" asked Hazel.
"Oh, no, indeed, and he won't be for some time. But he is in no immediate danger. Had he been, either mamma or papa would have gone up at once. What he needs is complete rest and change, and he is getting both. It is only that he cannot make his mind do what he wants it to, and bring back the memory of that forgotten chemical combination. That is what is worrying him, for there is a comparatively large fortune in it, both for himself and for his firm.
"It is too bad he lost all memory of it, but it may come back to him. Until it does, though, he will worry and fret, and that will retard his recovery, Harry says. But he is growing stronger physically, and in another month or so there may be a big change."
"That's good," murmured Alice, with a sympathetic glance at Rose.
"Perhaps when we go to see him that will at least cheer him up," said Hazel.
"I am hoping so," Sylvia agreed. "Poor Roy! he isn't having a very good time. He just loves the woods, to hunt and fish and camp, but I imagine he can't do many of those things now. Taking a rest cure is so----"
"Unrestful," put in Alice, as she caught Hazel by the shoulders and whirled her about, forcing her over toward the piano. "Come!" she cried. "Away with gloomy thoughts, since Sylvia has had good news! Let's try that new whirl in the onestep. Don't you remember--the step backward, then forward, a halt and a whirl--this way!"
Humming to herself she glided gracefully about the room.
"Oh, if you want to dance," said Sylvia, "let's go out to the library and take up the rugs. We can start the 'canned music,' as Roy calls the phonograph, and have some good practice. But really, though I hate to begin, I ought to be packing!" and she sighed.
"And I ought to be shopping!" added Hazel. "But we've time enough. I am easy to fit, and not fussy. On with the dance. Come, Rose, I'll lead you."
But Rose rather hung back, and there was a far-off look in her eyes.
"Are you worried, dear?" asked Sylvia, in a whisper, as Alice and Hazel led the way to the library for dance practice.
"A little--yes."
Sylvia pressed her chum's hand.
"Don't be," she said. "I'm sure he will be all right."
"I hope so. But----"
The music of a catchy onestep floated in to them, and soon the girls were gliding about the unrugged floor.
"Do the aëroplane," suggested Sylvia. "You know, the one with four steps on one side, four on the other, then the walk-about and----"
"Oh, yes, I just love that. It's so restful!" cried Hazel.
The merry impromptu dance went on, and then Sylvia bethought herself that she had not given to her mother the good news that had come by telephone. When she came back, after having done this, the girls were waltzing, Alice with a large vase as a partner, while Hazel had taken Rose.
"I want to get that 'marcel wave' down more smoothly," explained Alice. "I'm sure they'll be doing that at all the hotels this summer."
They shopped that afternoon and the next and for several successive days. Rush orders were given dressmakers. The town car was in constant demand for visits to shops, and the apartment looked like "a May morning cyclone," as Sylvia expressed it, for there were gowns and hats on every chair and in every corner.
"I thought you girls were going to do this thing simply, and rough it in the mountains," said Mr. Pursell, as he "waded through" the filled-up hall one evening.
"We are, Daddy mine!" laughingly answered Sylvia.
"This doesn't look like it."
"Oh, but you know nowadays, Daddy, it's awfully hard to be simple."
"Like being good, I suppose," he chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you're going--I mean I'm sorry to lose the jolly company of you young ladies," he hastened to add, "but I'm glad you're going up to see Roy. He needs it. I'd go myself only I can't possibly leave. What was the report to-day, Sylvia?"
"Just about the same. He is fretting a little."
"Well, perhaps that's a good sign. They say when a sick person frets he's getting better. Now, Sylvia, how about your trip? Have you it all planned out? When does Aunt Theodora-and-all-the-rest-of-it arrive?"
"Don't let her hear you say that!" cautioned his daughter, raising an admonishing finger. "She is very dignified at times, but jolly enough when she wants to be. She'll be with us to-morrow, and we will start two days after that. She may want to do a little shopping in New York, since she won't get to Paris this year."
"Have you the train schedule?" asked Mr. Pursell.
"All complete," replied Sylvia, tapping a bundle of time-tables and railroad folders. "We leave the Grand Central Terminal at 12:25, and we can reach Fulton Chain at 11:05 the next day; that is if we don't stop off anywhere."
"Were you thinking of that?" asked Mr. Pursell.
"I wanted them to stop off at Syracuse," put in Rose.
"And we may," half-promised Sylvia.
"Do you know any of the University fellows?" Hazel wanted to know.
"Of course she does--scores of them," declared Sylvia.
"Then we stop off," decided Alice. "That settles it!" and the others laughed at her vehemence.
Aunt Theodora Leigh Brownley arrived, and was made welcome by Mr. and Mrs. Pursell. They made the gentle, dignified Southern lady feel at home at once, and when Mrs. Brownley discovered, wholly by accident, that there was living in the same apartment a member of an old and distinguished family of Fairfax County, Virginia, the little reserve she had shown melted at once.
"I can be quite reconciled to New York, and even to these semi-barbarous apartment houses, if a Randolph can be comfortable here," said Mrs. Brownley. "It is much nicer than I thought."
Then began a busy time, with the town car working veritably night and day, taking the girls here and there, to fill engagements with dressmakers and milliners, to shop, attend teas and what-not. But slowly the pile of pretty things in the various rooms was reduced. Trunks began to fill, and finally came the day when the Nowadays Club held a last informal meeting in the home of Sylvia.
"We leave to-morrow," was the announcement of the president pro tem. "Now don't any of you forget anything."
"Have you the tickets, Sylvia?" asked Mrs. Brownley.
"Indeed we have, Aunt Theodora."
"And you have definitely decided to stop off at Syracuse?"
"Yes, Rose wants us to, and we may not get another chance soon to meet her people."
"Very well then, my dear, I shall take my afternoon nap, something I deprive myself of when school is in session."
Aunt Theodora Leigh Brownley had a very comfortable habit of indulging in a siesta when acting as chaperon. Perhaps she emulated those paragons of chaperons, the Spanish duennas.
After a light and rather "flighty" lunch next day, the girls motored to the Grand Central Terminal, and even in that vast extent of station with its marble, its tiles, its hurrying, bustling throngs, its red-capped porters, and its general air of caring for nothing and no one, the girls created no little stir, as they marched in, two by two, with Aunt Theodora in the lead and several porters bringing up the rear with handbags.
"We certainly are doing it in style!" murmured Hazel, to whom attention was as the breath of life.
"Of course! Why not?" demanded Alice. "After all, there is no place just like New York for cutting a dash!"
"Well, don't cut up too much," advised Hazel.
Their train was being announced as they entered, and they passed out through the iron-grilled gates to the parlour car, which glowed with many electric lights, for it was dark out on that labyrinth of tracks.
The porters were tipped most graciously by Aunt Theodora, who received the homage of doffed caps as only a Southern woman can, and then the girls settled themselves comfortably for a long ride.
"Well, we are starting," said Sylvia, with a little sigh, as a gentle motion was imparted to the long, heavy train. "We are off to the Adirondacks, girls."
"And I wonder what we shall find there?" murmured Alice.
"Find? What do you mean?" asked Hazel.
"Oh, I don't know--exactly."
"I hope we find Roy better," voiced Sylvia.
"So do I," echoed Rose. But she smiled, for the early morning telegram, in the form of a night-letter this time, had brought good news ere they had left for the station.
But though Rose smiled, somehow, and in a manner for which she could not account, she had a feeling of vague apprehension. And that this apprehension had to do with Roy need not be doubted. It was a feeling as though "something were going to happen," as we often tell ourselves. That was as much of it as Rose could define.
But she managed to shake off a little of the feeling as the train came out of the gloomy line of tunnel-walls and, beyond One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, emerged into the open. True there was not much to see, but it was better than nothing, or the stone walls.
Hazel went to the end of the swaying car for a drink of water--a thirst having been engendered by an indulgence in candy--and on her way back a sudden swaying of the coach threw her off her balance.
"Watch your step!" called out a young man, near whose chair she was struggling. Hazel tried to, but could not, and the next moment she was neatly deposited on the arm of--not the young man, but the arm of the chair in which he sat. He put up his hand to Hazel's back to prevent her toppling completely over, murmuring again:
