CHAPTER II

TOGETHER AGAIN.

Two weeks after Alice Endicott had received her startling invitation to visit her aunt at the latter’s expense, Doris Harris sat in the living-room of her cozy little Philadelphia house, awaiting the arrival of all the girls concerned. The party was to be a week-end one, half of the girls staying at her house, and half at the home of her sister-in-law, Marie Louise Harris, with whom they had lived during the preceding summer while conducting the tea-room.

Doris looked about the attractively furnished room, with its shining white paint and snowy curtains, its delft blue hangings and upholstery, and smiled contentedly to herself. It would have been pleasant, she thought, to go to college, along with the majority of the girls of the senior patrol; but it could not have been nearly so wonderful as to be married to the best man in the world, and to possess such a dear little home of her own. And, after all, there would always be occasions like this when she could manage to be with the girls again.

She heard a light step on the porch but she did not put down her fancy work to go to the door, for she recognized it as belonging to her sister-in-law. The girls were so intimate that neither considered stopping to ring the bell at the other’s home. A moment later Marie Louise opened the door.

Anybody here yet? she asked, crossing the room to give Doris her customary kiss.

No, not yet, replied her hostess. I sort of expect that the five girls from Turner College will come together. But Ethel Todd will come by herself.

Marie Louise disappeared into the dining-room for a minute and returned carrying a vase of roses, which she had arranged most artistically in a wide blue china bowl. She set it down upon the table, hardly listening to Doris’s thanks for the flowers, so eager was she to talk of the latest development.

Tell me more about this new idea—is it Alice’s or Marjorie’s?—I haven’t got the gist of it yet. Ethel Todd called me up on the telephone, but the connection was so poor—

I really don’t know myself, replied Doris; except that it is a trip of some sort, and Alice’s aunt is paying the expenses. None of the girls wrote to me in detail, because they all assumed that I couldn’t go.

Well, you wouldn’t, would you?

No, of course not, replied Doris, laughingly. I’d be too homesick. But how about you, Marie Louise?

Unfortunately I’ve arranged to go on studying all summer. You know I spoke of some such plan—well, I had already made my arrangements before Ethel called me up. But I am crazy to see the girls and hear all about it.

She seated herself upon the wide window-sill so that she might catch the first sight of her friends when they arrived. But she did not have long to wait; in less than ten minutes Ethel Todd put in an appearance. Both girls jumped up joyfully and hurried to the door.

Aren’t the others here yet? asked Ethel, as soon as the greetings had subsided.

No, not yet, replied Doris. But they won’t be long and they’re all coming together. Now—come on upstairs, Ethel, and put your hat and coat away, for I want you to stay here. You know, she explained laughingly, I have only room enough to put up three of the girls, so three will have to stay at Marie Louise’s.

She led the way up the mahogany and white staircase to the dainty little guest room at the rear of the second story, a boudoir such as any girl would love, furnished in cream-colored painted furniture, with pink floral decorations and pink and cream curtains at the windows. Ethel admired it profusely.

And did you work that bed-spread yourself? she asked, examining closely the applique work in a flower design, upon unbleached muslin. It’s simply too pretty to sleep on.

Oh, it will wash! laughed Doris. Yes, I did make it myself. I love to do fancy-work. Then, in the same breath, Now tell us all about the trip. I’m tremendously interested.

I’m afraid I don’t know a whole lot myself—just the bare facts that you know. But wait till Marj and Alice get here—they’ll tell us everything. By the way, is everybody coming?

Everybody but Mae, replied Doris. You could hardly expect so recent a bride. In fact, she added, I didn’t even invite her. I knew it would be of no use.

And she’s too far away—way out there in Ohio, said Ethel. I’m afraid we won’t see much of her any more.

They descended the staircase just in time to see, through the glass door, a taxi stop in front of the house. A moment later five merry, laughing girls jumped out of the machine and skipped up the porch steps. Marjorie Wilkinson, the last to enter the house on account of the delay in paying the driver, decided to make up for lost time, and seized Ethel, Doris, and Marie Louise all at once in one inclusive hug.

We’re all here! she cried, joyfully. Together now—and together all summer! Isn’t it marvellous?

Yes, if only Mae were here, said Lily, who never could forget the absent members.

And if Doris and I could go with you, sighed Marie Louise.

You can’t go? asked Alice, her face clouding. Oh, why not, Marie Louise? Are you going to get married too?

No, indeed, replied the other girl, laughingly. But I am keeping on at art school this summer.

What a shame! cried several of the others at once. They were all genuinely fond of this girl who was the latest addition to their number.

Without even removing their hats, the girls all dropped into chairs in the living-room and continued to talk fast and furiously about their proposed trip. It seemed that all of the college girls were planning to go; and Marjorie’s announcement of Mrs. Remington’s acceptance added another cause for rejoicing. Their only regret was that their two hostesses and Mae Melville could not go.

I honestly feel sorry for you married people! teased Florence. To think that you have to miss all the fun—

But there are compensations, Doris reminded her. Maybe we feel sorry for you!

Now Doris, we won’t stand for that! retorted Alice. And anyhow—

Anyhow what? demanded the other, as Alice paused in the middle of her remark.

Anyhow some of us may have gone over to your side by the time we come back. I expect some of the girls to fall for my cousins—

But Marjorie put an end to their bantering by a call to the practical.

That makes seven of us to go, she said, using her fingers for the calculation. I should think that two machines would really be enough.

Yes, answered Alice, because we are to travel light. I forgot to tell you that one of my aunt’s stipulations is that we wear our Girl Scout uniforms all the time. We can express our trunks ahead, packed with the clothing we want to wear after we get to California.

Then everybody will know we’re scouts? asked Florence.

Yes; you don’t mind, do you?

I’m proud of it! replied the other, loyally.

If you take a big seven-passenger car, said Lily, wouldn’t it be possible to take my Rolls as a second? It really runs wonderfully.

It would do beautifully, answered Marjorie; and all the others approved her decision.

Do we camp along the way, or do we expect to stop at inns and hotels? asked Ethel.

Both, replied Alice. You see we have to be a little bit economical because Aunt Emeline is only allowing us a certain amount for our trip; and if we spend any more, even though it is our own money, we forfeit our reward. So we must be rather thrifty.

I think it’s more fun to camp, anyhow, said Marjorie. Imagine Girl Scouts running to hotels all along the way! Though it will be nice to stop every once in a while and get a real bath!

Oh, you’ll have to go to a hotel in the big cities, put in Doris, who took as much interest in the affair as if she were going herself.

The funniest thing is going to be refusing any help from men we happen to meet along the road, remarked Daisy. I’m afraid some of them may think we’re terribly rude.

And suppose we get in such a tight place we simply can’t get out, suggested Ethel. What are we to do?

Walk miles to a garage, or trust to some women tourists to give us a lift, answered Marjorie, firmly.

Trust us! Girl Scouts don’t give up easily.

But remember, put in Daisy, who was still a little dubious as to the success of the undertaking, that we always had our own Boy Scouts to help us before. And now we’ll be miles away! she sighed regretfully.

We wouldn’t call on them if they were right behind us! asserted Marjorie. Oh, it’s going to be great fun—so much more than if we were all wealthy, and could just take the trip as we pleased, without any terms being dictated! It means that we’ve got one more chance to show what Girl Scouts can do!

Well, your aunt certainly must be a queer one to think up all these conditions, observed Doris.

Oh, she hasn’t much to do, said Alice, except to think about those two nephews who are her heirs. I guess we’ve given her a new interest.

What does she look like? asked Florence.

I don’t know; the only picture we have is one of those old-fashioned things in a family album. She was eighteen then, and looked thirty-eight. You know the kind that I mean. But I have always imagined that she resembled that fake lieutenant those boys we met on the train fixed up for our benefit the summer we went on the ranch.

Speaking of boys, interrupted Doris, they will soon be here. And you girls won’t even have your hats off—let alone be dressed. Don’t you think we had better adjourn to our rooms, especially the girls who have to go over to Marie Louise’s?

Right you are, Doris! exclaimed all of her guests, hastening to carry out her suggestion.

But if Doris thought that the presence of the boys at dinner that evening would put a damper upon the discussion of the project, she was mistaken. The boys, among whom were Jack Wilkinson, John Hadley, and Dick Roberts—all intimate friends of the girls—already knew something of the plans and showed their interest by a succession of questions. John and Dick both looked anything but pleased.

Why couldn’t you do something in Philadelphia? asked Dick, sulkily. We had such a bully time last summer!

Why don’t you take a motor trip to the coast? returned Florence. Last year we came to you—this year you come with us! Turn about is fair play!

Don’t suggest it! protested Alice, alarmed at the very mention of such a thing. We’d never earn our cars with the boys following in our trail.

People! exclaimed Marjorie, suddenly struck by an inspiration. I know something fine! It has just occurred to me that Mae lives in a town on the Lincoln Highway—the way we will undoubtedly go to the coast. And she has urged us all to visit her—so couldn’t we stop on our way out, and maybe you boys join us for a week-end?

Where does she live? asked Jack, doubtfully. He was not sure of being able to get away from the office whenever he desired.

Lima—in Ohio, replied Doris. It isn’t awfully far.

But would it be right for a big crowd like this to descend upon her all at once? inquired Daisy.

Mae wouldn’t mind, Doris hastened to assure her. You know she has a rather large house—and two servants—for Tom Melville has plenty of this world’s goods. In fact, I think she may be a little lonely, and would be overjoyed to see you.

Then that settles it! cried Marjorie. I’ll write tomorrow and invite ourselves.

But how do you know when to set the date for? asked Florence.

We’ll have to work it all out by mathematics, replied the latter. There’s a lot of planning to be done, and equipment to be bought. We’ll have to name a committee.

I propose you as chairman, said Lily, immediately. Because you’re our lieutenant—and you can pick your own committee.

I second that motion! exclaimed Ethel.

Just at this point Marjorie’s brother commenced to chuckle to himself, as if he were enjoying some private joke.

Tell us, Jack, so we can have some fun, suggested Ethel.

Oh, it’s nothing! replied Jack. Only—well, I don’t want to be a kill-joy, or anything like that, you know; but I just couldn’t help but think how funny it would be if somebody were playing a practical joke on you all.

What do you mean? demanded Marjorie.

Why, suppose you went ahead and made all your plans and bought a lot of things, and then found out in the end that the letter was all a joke—

You mean that you don’t believe that I have an Aunt Emeline? interrupted Alice.

No, not that. With due respect to your aunt, you must admit it’s a mighty unusual proposal for her to make to a bunch of girls she never saw, no matter if she is as rich as all get out. The proposition’s wild enough, but the idea of her giving each girl a runabout as a reward if she wins through—that’s what gets me.

Anyone rich enough and crazy enough to pay our expenses would be crazy enough to do anything, said Alice.

And she probably doesn’t expect us to win, put in Florence.

Well, I’d wait till I saw a check for those expenses, if I were you; then, if it turned out to be a joke, you wouldn’t be so much out of pocket. That’s what I mean!

Silly! As if we haven’t thought of those things! exclaimed his sister. I’ve been pinching myself every day, expecting to wake up from a dream—until Alice wrote a letter saying we could go, and then received that check by return mail. Think up some other excuse to keep us home, Jackie; that one won’t work.

You needn’t worry about the money, Jack, explained Alice. It’s safely deposited in bank to my account!

Well, anyway, Jack replied, I object to this party’s being turned into a business meeting. Let’s forget it—and dance!

Jack is right, agreed Doris. Then, turning to her husband, Put on a record, Roger, and let’s begin.

The remainder of the evening passed entirely to the boys’ satisfaction.