  Meanwhile the three girls in the kitchen were preparing the evening meal with much nonsensical chatter, but Jane was finding the strain almost more than she could bear. She felt that she might overcome her desire to go to her room and sob her heart out, if only she could get away by herself for a few moments, and so she suddenly, exclaimed, “The one thing needed for our table is a bouquet. I saw a clump of the prettiest wild flowers yesterday, and if you girls will excuse me I’ll go and get them.” Merry at once saw through the ruse. Jane’s flushed cheeks, quivering lips and tear-brimmed eyes told the story, and so she urged, “Do go, Jane, before it is dark. The cool mountain air will do you good.” She did not offer to accompany her friend, realizing that she wanted to be alone. Jane left the cabin, and after crossing the brook, she hurried toward the cleft in a rock where she had seen the flowers of which she had spoken, but instead of gathering them, she threw herself down on a wide, flat boulder and sobbed bitterly. She did not hear footsteps hurrying toward her, but suddenly she was conscious that someone had taken her hand and was holding it with great tenderness. “Of course it is Dan,” she thought, without glancing up. Dear old Dan who always understood. But in another second, when the someone spoke, Jane knew that it was Jean Willoughby and not her brother. Instantly she was on her feet, her cheeks flaming, her hand pressed over her pounding heart. There was a wild, frightened expression in her eyes and she was about to run, but she could not, for two strong arms caught and held her, as the lad implored, “Jane, dear, dear Jane, don’t spurn me any longer. Don’t you understand that I love you? The very fact that you could write that letter to me reveals the true nobility of your soul. I don’t blame you in the least for finding it hard, at first, to adjust yourself to the changed conditions, but when it came to the testing, you would have told your father to do just what he did.” Then, putting a hand over her quivering lips, he begged, “Don’t let’s talk about that subject now. There’s something ever so much more interesting that I want to say. Jane, can you care enough for me to promise to be my wife?” The sudden change from misery to joy had been so great that the girl could hardly believe that it was real, and she gazed uncomprehendingly into the eager, handsome face of the lad. Then slowly she read in his glowing eyes the truth of all he had said, and she smiled tremulously. It was enough for Jean Willoughby. Joyfully he cried, “You do care, Jane!” Then taking from his pocket a ring, he added (and there was infinite tenderness in his voice), “That last summer on the coast of Maine, when little mother and I were alone together, she gave me this for you, dearest girl.” Again there were sudden tears in the dark eyes that were lifted to his. “Not for me, Jean. Your mother would have chosen a girl who could do useful things; pare potatoes, sew and darn.” The lad laughed happily, and catching the slim left hand, he slipped the ring on the finger for which it was intended. Then he kissed each of the five finger tips as he confessed, “It may seem inconsistent, but I want these lovely hands kept stainless. We will have a Chinaman to pare and cook.” Then slowly they walked toward the cabin. Meg and Dan had returned and with Merry and Julie were standing on the rustic front porch wondering where Jane had wandered, and why she remained away so long. When they saw the two coming toward them, hand in hand, their faces, even in the dusk, that had so quickly fallen, revealing their secret, there was joy in the hearts of Merry and Dan. Jane would no longer be unhappy. When they had entered the lighted living-room of the cabin, Merry exclaimed as she held out her left hand, “I also am to be congratulated. I am to be married to Jean’s brother on the first day of September.” “Let’s make it a double wedding, Jane, can’t we?” her fiance implored. “I’d like to!” The radiant girl glanced at Dan, then added, “If my big brother will give his consent.” “Indeed you have it, Jane,” that lad said heartily. “I know that I am voicing our father’s sentiments-to-be, when I say that I am proud to welcome Jean Willoughby into our family.” Of their own secret Meg and Dan had decided to say nothing. Then remembering the commonplaces, Jane said: “We’re waiting supper for the boys. Where did they go and why?” She looked at both Julie and Dan. “You two surely know, since you were with them. It is nearly seven and getting dark rapidly. Aren’t you anxious about them, Dan?” “I shall be if they do not soon return,” the lad replied. “Perhaps we had better have the good supper you have prepared. There is no need to spoil it for all.” “I’m not a bit hungry,” Jane said and Merry teased: “Why, Janey, you must be in love.” The table had been placed in the middle of the cabin living-room. Over it hung a drop lamp with a crimson shade and, as there was a log burning on the hearth, the room presented a most festive appearance. It was with sincere regret that the six young people seated themselves, leaving two chairs vacant. All during the meal, at intervals, they paused to listen, hoping that they would hear the halloos of the returning boys. Dan was becoming thoroughly alarmed and, at last, after a consultation with Meg, he turned to the others and said: “We have decided to tell you the mission on which the boys started out so hurriedly.” Of course Jane and Merry had surmised that they had gone in quest of the hidden box, but they knew nothing of the finding of the pick, shovel and carved name, and they were much interested. At eight o’clock Jean Willoughby rose. “I had better be going,” he said. “I have a long hike ahead of me.” But Dan protested. “Indeed you shall not go tonight. Mr. Packard will not be worried if you remain with us, will he? I may need your help to locate the boys if they do not soon return.” That settled the matter, for Jean had not wished to leave. Another hour passed, and Dan, who had really become very anxious, arose, but before he could get his coat and cap, the halloos for which they had long listened were heard. Leaping to the door, Dan threw it open and a welcoming light streamed out into the darkness. Bob and Gerry, looking almost exhausted, staggered into the room (although Dan well knew that it was for effect) and sank down on the vacant chairs. “Say, talk about a climb! We certainly had a steep one!” Bob gasped. The young people at once noted that neither boy was carrying a box and so they decided that it had not been found. “It isn’t such a terrible steep climb to Crazy Creek Camp,” Dan commented. “Half of the way is down grade.” The two younger boys exchanged glances that were hard for the watchers to interpret. Then Bob sprang up, exclaiming: “Come on, kid. Let’s wash and have some of the good grub.” “You must be nearly starved,” Jane said, also rising and going toward the kitchen. “We are keeping your share of the party warm.” When they were gone, Dan said softly: “I’m inclined to believe that the boys have something of a surprising nature to tell us, but after Gerry’s usual fashion he wants to keep us guessing for a time.” The two mountain climbers were indeed hungry and they ate heartily, talking aggravatingly of everything but the matter which they knew was uppermost in the minds of their companions. When they declared that another bite could not be taken, the table was cleared, magazines and books again spread upon it, and then Dan, feeling it unfair to Meg to keep her longer in suspense, exclaimed, “Now, boys, tell us your adventures.” |
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