Glenloch Girls Part 31

"Oh, Ruth, if I didn't like you so much I should say you were pernickety," cried Dorothy impatiently.

"I suppose I am fussy," confessed Ruth. "But mother was always very particular about having me keep my own things in order, and especially about leaving other people's belongings the way I found them, and I can't get over the habit."

"For goodness' sake, you sound as if you thought it was a crime,"

said Charlotte. "I only wish I had a few such bad habits as that."

"I'm a s.h.i.+ning example for you, Charlotte," laughed Betty, "for I cleared up my top bureau drawer to-day."

"You're a s.h.i.+ning example for me in more ways than one, Betsy,"

answered Charlotte with such unexpected earnestness that rosy Betty grew rosier than ever.

For a few minutes the girls worked busily, and the hair, black, brown, s.h.i.+ning gold and burnished copper, was soon adorning the heads of its owners in the accustomed way. Ruth and Betty took in the towels and brought out racquets and b.a.l.l.s. Charlotte and Katharine languidly changed their seats to where they could watch the court, and the other four began a vigorous game.

It was a long and hotly contested deuce set, and ended in favor of Dorothy and Alice just as Katie appeared with tray and gla.s.ses.

"Ellen thought you'd like some lemonade, Miss Ruth. I'll bring it out directly."

Ellen's lemonade was a work of art; full of tantalizing and unexpected flavors of orange, mint and clove. The girls, who knew it of old, groaned with pleasure at sight of the frosty-looking pitcher with sprigs of mint at the top.

"This is richness," sighed Dorothy, as she settled herself on the big rug and took one of the fresh chocolate-frosted cakes that Katie had brought out.

"Ellen's the best old dear," said Ruth. "I never even have to ask for things."

"There's a letter on the tray," said Betty suddenly. "No, not a letter, because there's no stamp on it, but it's for you, Ruth."

Ruth picked it up and opened it. Then she laughed and held it out to the girls, reading aloud as she did so.

The Candle Club Presents its compliments to The Cooking Club And requests the pleasure of its company Sat.u.r.day, May eighteenth, At half-after six

The Club Room

"My, but they're formal," said Dorothy. "Will you look at the elegance of 'half-after six'?"

"Jack did the invitations with his new typewriter, I suppose," said Betty. "I wonder how many sheets of paper he spoiled."

"Of course we'll all go," said Charlotte, lazily pulling herself up from her seat on the ground. "It's perfectly lovely sitting here and drinking this delicious lemonade, and I hate to mention it, but I've got to get home, girls. Betty, you ought to walk 'round my way to-night; I went with you last night."

"Wait till I get the last drop out of my gla.s.s," gurgled Betty, pulling away at her straw with great diligence.

"We're all going," added Dorothy. "It's almost six anyway."

Ruth went with them to the front of the house and then back to the tennis ground to pick up racquets and b.a.l.l.s. It was so cool and still and beautiful in the garden that she sat down on the rug again with her hands clasped around her knees. The old apple-tree covered with pink and white blossoms rustled softly overhead, a fat robin c.o.c.ked his eye at her as he listened for worms, and from the other side of the garden came the faint, melodious tinkle of the little fountain.

Something flipped into the gra.s.s beside her and the robin flew away.

"It's just a penny," called a gay voice, "the one they're always offering for your thoughts, you know."

Ruth looked up as Arthur dropped down on the rug beside her.

"They're worth so much more that I couldn't let you have them for a penny," she said with a laugh.

"Make it a spring bargain sale and give 'em to me at a great reduction," he suggested.

"They were perfectly good thoughts," answered Ruth. "I was just wondering how I happened to drop down in such a lovely place, and why every one is so nice to me, and thinking how I shall miss you all when father sends for me."

"Don't begin to think about that," protested Arthur quickly. "You know you came for a year, a whole year."

"I know," laughed Ruth. "I don't believe you were a bit pleased when you heard that I was coming for a whole year. I really think you've got used to me very nicely."

"It's astonis.h.i.+ng how soon we get used to things that we know we must put up with," said Arthur with a sigh of resignation. "Oh, by the way, there's something I forgot to tell you," he added.

"What is it?" cried Ruth eagerly.

"You won't tell the other girls, will you?"

"Why no, if you really don't want me to."

Arthur looked thoughtful. "I wouldn't for a while, anyway," he said at last.

"I won't tell until you say I may," said Ruth with great decision.

"Well, then,--I was sent out here to ask you to come in to dinner,"

chuckled the graceless youth, picking himself up from the ground, and making off with surprising agility.

"Oh, you villain," groaned Ruth, throwing a tennis ball at him with such unexpectedly good aim that it hit him squarely in the back.

"Good shot! How did it happen? Oh, but you did bite nicely that time," and Arthur laughed again at her pretended rage.

"If you ever want to be forgiven, come back here and help me take in the racquets and b.a.l.l.s," called Ruth, starting toward the house.

"Sure, I will," responded Arthur amiably. "Give me all the racquets and you can take the b.a.l.l.s. I know," he continued a moment later, "why every one is so nice to you."

"Is this another sell?" demanded Ruth.

"No, this is truth. You'll find the answer in Mary's Little Lamb if you change the words a little. You look up the last verse and see if I'm not right."

Ruth looked thoughtfully at him as they entered the house, and then sternly repressing the pleased smile that flitted over her face said with a.s.sumed indifference:

"I hope that's a compliment, but how can you expect me to remember the rhymes of my childhood?"

The days went by so fast that Ruth could hardly keep the run of the calendar. They were full days, with hard work at school, delightful rides on Peter Pan with Arthur or his father to accompany her, and pleasant afternoons with the girls at one house or another. Then there were important letters from her father and Uncle Jerry which necessitated lengthy replies, and frequent conferences with Miss Burton and Mrs. Hamilton.

On the night of the Candle Club party the girls met first at Dorothy's house, and went out into the stable together. A large room on the second floor had been given up to the boys who had furnished and decorated it to suit their taste and their opportunities. An old piano, begged for by Frank when the Marshalls were buying a new one, stood under one of the electric lights and looked well-used.

That it had outlived its most tuneful days was not to be denied, but Arthur could still coax college songs out of it, and for miscellaneous strumming and tunes with one finger it was invaluable.

It was also a convenient place on which to leave sweaters, hats and books, and altogether the boys considered it one of the most valuable of their possessions.

The furniture of the club room could hardly be called ornamental, but it was certainly comfortable. A couple of steamer chairs, a roomy couch covered with bright cus.h.i.+ons, and an ancient bookcase offered an impartial welcome to the lazy and the studious, and bore mute witness to the fact that many happy hours had been pa.s.sed there. The boys had made the room gay with banners, and trophies of past victories, and red curtains and a few rugs added to the general cheerfulness.

Mr. and Mrs. Marshall went out to the stable with the girls, and as they went up the narrow stairs there was a shout of laughter from the club room, laughter so mirth-compelling that the girls giggled involuntarily. At Mr. Marshall's peremptory knock there was a sudden stillness; then the door opened a crack and in a choked voice Arthur said, "Just hold the line a second, please, and we'll let you in."