"But she hasn't, any more!" protested Marjorie; "at least, if Miss Smith is right!"

At that moment Mrs. Hammer returned with the baby, and Marjorie asked her all sorts of questions to which she could not reply, but only shake her head hopelessly.

"But aren't you the least bit worried?" asked Marjorie, picturing how her own mother would feel under similar circ.u.mstances. For Mrs. Hammer was certainly amazingly calm.

"Ach! she's old enough to take care of herself!" cried the woman impatiently. "New York's a fine place--I'm glad she is there!"

Marjorie again thought of the great city as she had seen it when she visited Lily at Thanksgiving, and she shuddered at the confusion and the danger of it all. And to a country girl like Frieda, it must be even more terrifying. But she said nothing further; Mrs. Hammer had no conception of it, and probably never would have. She was relieved to see Miss Phillips make a motion to go.

All during the ride home, she was unusually quiet, but it was not from despair. The visit, she felt, had not been in vain; she had formulated a plan which she meant to put into effect as soon as she reached home. She would write to Frieda and tell her how much she wanted her to come back.

She would a.s.sure the girl that she did not mind about the canoe--she would even make her a present of it. And she would be glad to send Frieda the money for a return ticket if she would only promise to come back!

CHAPTER XVII

RUTH FINDS THE CANOE

Ruth Henry had always been a pretty girl, but in the past year she had grown even more attractive. Though small of stature, there was nothing insignificant about her; indeed, she was of the striking type which attracts immediate attention, even of the casual observer. Always planning some activity, or involved in some scheme to further her own interests, she was a creature of perpetual animation. This very vivacity was one of her chief charms among young and old.

It was no particular surprise to anyone, therefore, that Harold Mason was smitten by her at first sight. Here, he felt, was his ideal type of girl: pretty, pet.i.te, feminine, yet combining with all those characteristics a love of sport and adventure, and a spirit of daring that was almost boyish. What a comrade! he thought.

The boy himself was far from unattractive. Raised in Virginia, he possessed that unconscious charm of the Southerner that is always particularly pleasing to women. He drawled his words, dropping his "r's"; and he had a little habit of smiling at the end of his remarks.

Like Ruth, however, Harold Mason was an only child; and, like her, he was spoiled. Possessing a car of his own--even though it happened to be only a Ford sedan--he came and went as he pleased, with the consequence that his studies had often suffered. Now, when he should have been in college, he was merely finishing the latter half of his senior year at High School.

"I tell you what, Ruth," he said on the second day of their holiday (they felt by now as if they had known each other all of their lives), "let's have a regular good time this week. Let's go somewhere every single day!"

Ruth smiled faintly; she could not help being flattered by her conquest.

"Suppose I have other engagements?"

"Chuck them--ah--just for once!"

"And maybe mother won't let me."

"Well, tease her!"

"And then," added Ruth, "you haven't met Marjorie Wilkinson. She's considered (by some) the most attractive girl at our school!"

"Oh, forget her! I've seen her, even if I haven't met her. Her type doesn't appeal to me!"

Ruth laughed good naturedly, and surrendered. But she made one reservation.

"I promised Jack Wilkinson I'd go to the movies with him on Friday."

Harold closed his lips tightly, and shrugged his shoulders.

"As you please," he said; "maybe I will ask Marjorie for that day."

"Then you'll get left!" retorted Ruth triumphantly. "She has a date, too!"

"Well--then I'll ask Miss Maria!" he concluded, mentioning one who was the typical "old-maid" of the town, and who unconsciously bore the brunt of all the young people's jokes.

When Jack and Marjorie came over to Ruth's on Wednesday evening, Harold found the girl to be just as he had expected: rather quiet and diffident, even pretty, but not striking-looking; and he made no attempt to become intimate with her. After they had tired of playing cards, whenever Jack and Ruth saw fit to dance together, he offered to do likewise with Marjorie, as a mere matter of form. But he did not find her easy to talk to.

"Jack, what's Marj going to do on Friday?" Ruth asked as she poured the cocoa from the chafing dish on the tea-table.

Marjorie looked up, amused. She was sincerely thankful that Jack knew as little as Ruth about her coming adventure.

"You can search me!" replied the boy. "I did hear dad mention an auto ride."

"Your father?" repeated Ruth. "Is that all? And here I was picturing a secret meeting with an unknown lover----"

"Wrong as usual!" said Marjorie, a little sharply. "I told you that before, Ruth."

Harold Mason looked up quickly, incensed at the tone Marjorie had unconsciously used towards Ruth. In that instant he became her enemy; if she and Ruth should be rival contestants in any cause again, he vowed to himself that he would do all in his power to help the latter.

"Well, if it's nothing exciting, why don't you tell us about it?" said Jack.

"It's a personal matter, Jack," said Marjorie; "I should think you and Ruth would understand that by now!"

Apparently, Ruth was squelched. "I beg your pardon," she said humbly.

But the very next instant she winked at Harold, and he knew her well enough to interpret the signal as a challenge against Marjorie.

"Don't make any engagement for Friday!" she whispered, as Harold left the house with the others.

By pre-arranged signals, Ruth and Harold sat waiting in his car at eight-thirty on Friday morning. The machine did not stand in front of either Mason's or Henry's house; instead, it was drawn up before a provision store, where, to the pa.s.ser-by, it might appear to be waiting while Mrs. Mason or Mrs. Wilkinson was making purchases inside.

The young people did not have to wait long, for a few minutes before nine, Jack Wilkinson came hurrying towards them.

"They're gone!" he shouted. "The other direction--out the Main street."

In a second, he was inside the car, and Harold stepped on the starter and released the emergency.

"How long ago?" he asked, as the machine began to move forward.

"Just long enough for me to get my things on and run over here. About five minutes, I should say."

"Just Marj and your father?" asked Ruth.

"Yes."

"Is he a fast driver?" inquired Harold.

"Pretty fast, except in traffic," replied Jack.

"Well, speed up, Harold," urged Ruth. She leaned back against the seat contentedly; it would be such a lark to worry Marjorie, especially since she had been so secret about the whole proceeding.