And was it any wonder? Twice now the means to enter college had been within her reach, and twice it had been swept away in a single day. But while Migwan was thus learning by hard experience that there is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip, she was also to learn from that same schoolmistress the truth of the old saying, "Three times and out." In the meantime, however, the skies were as gray as the wings of the Thunderbird, and life was like a jangling discord struck on a piano long out of tune.
But even if we _would_ rather be dead than alive, as long as we _are_ alive there remain certain duties which have to be performed regardless of the state of our emotional barometers, and Migwan discovered with a start one day that there were at least a dozen letters in her top bureau drawer waiting to be answered. "It"s a shame," she said to herself, as she looked them over. "I haven"t written to the Bartletts since last November." The Bartletts were the parents of the little boy who was traced by the aid of her timely snapshot. She opened Mrs. Bartlett"s letter and glanced over it to put herself in the mood for answering it.
She laughed sardonically as she read. Mrs. Bartlett, confident that Migwan was going to use the reward money to go to college, discussed the merits of different courses, and advised Migwan, above all things, with her talent for writing, to put the emphasis on literature and history.
Migwan took a certain grim delight in telling Mrs. Bartlett what had happened to her ambition to go to college. She had a Homeric sense of humor that could see the point when the G.o.ds were playing pranks on helpless mortals. She told the story simply and frankly, without any "literary style," such as was usually present in her letters to a high degree; neither did she bewail her lot and seek sympathy, for Migwan was no craven.
Then, having told Mrs. Bartlett that she had made up her mind to give up thoughts of college for several years at least, as her duty to her mother came before her ambition, and had sealed and sent away the letter, it suddenly came over her that the writing she had done all winter and which she now considered a waste of time, had done something for her after all; it had taught her the use of the typewriter, a knowledge which she could turn to account during the summertime, and by working in an office somewhere, she could possibly earn enough money to enter college in the fall after all. And up went Migwan"s spirits again, like a jack-in-the-box, and went soaring among the clouds like the swallows.
CHAPTER XIV.
AN AUTOMOBILE AND A DRIVER.
Along in the last week of May, Nyoda, on a shopping tour downtown, dropped into a restaurant for a bit of lunch. As she was sitting down to the table, another young woman came and sat down opposite her. The two glanced at each other.
"Why, Elizabeth Kent!" exclaimed the latest arrival.
"Why, Norma Williamson!" exclaimed Nyoda, recognizing an old college friend.
"Not Norma Williamson any more," said the friend, blushing as she drew off her glove and displayed the rings on her fourth finger; "Norma Bates."
"What are you doing to pa.s.s the time away?" asked the pretty little matron when she had exhausted her own experiences of the last few years.
Nyoda told her about her teaching and the guardianship of the Winnebagos. "Camp Fire Girls?" said Mrs. Bates. "How delightful! I think that is one of the best things that ever happened to girls. If I were not so frightfully busy I would take a group too--I may yet. But I wish you would bring your girls out to visit us. We"re living on the Lake Sh.o.r.e for the summer. Camp Fire Girls would certainly know how to have a good time at our place. We have a launch and a sailboat and horses to ride and a tennis court. Can"t you come out next Sat.u.r.day?" Nyoda thought perhaps they could. "I"ll tell you what to do," said Mrs. Bates, warming to the scheme. "Come out Friday after school and stay until Sunday night. That will give the girls more chance to do things. We have plenty of room."
"The same hospitable Norma Williamson as of old," said Nyoda, smiling at her. "Don"t you remember how we girls used to flock to your room in college, and when it was apparently as fall as it could get you would always make room for one more?"
"I love to have people visit me," said Mrs. Bates simply.
"By the way," said Nyoda, as she rose to depart, "how do you get to Bates Villa?"
"Take the Interurban car," replied Mrs. Bates, "and get off at Stop _42_. The Limited leaves the Interurban Station at four o"clock; that would be a good car to come on."
"All right," said Nyoda, extending her hand in farewell; "we"ll be there."
The news of the invitation to spend a week-end in the country was received with a shout by the Winnebagos. Their only regret was that Sahwah would be unable to go. "Never mind, Sahwah," comforted Nyoda, "Mrs. Bates wants us to come out again when the water is warm enough to go in bathing and by that time your hip will be all right."
On Friday, after school was out, Nyoda and Gladys left the building together. "You are coming home with me, as we planned, until it is time to take the car?" asked Nyoda.
"I"m afraid I"ll have to go home first, after all," said Gladys. "I came away in such a hurry this morning that I forgot my sweater and my tennis shoes and I really must have them. You come home with me."
But on arriving at the Evans house they found n.o.body home. Gladys rang and waited and rang again, but there was no answer. Gladys frowned with vexation. "I simply must have that sweater and those shoes," she said.
"There"s no use in waiting until some one comes home; it"ll be too late.
Mother has gone for the day and father is out of town, and if Katy has been given a day off she won"t be at home until evening. We"ll have to break into the house, that"s all there is to it."
Feeling like burglars, they tried all the windows on the first floor and the bas.e.m.e.nt. Everything was locked tightly. Gladys began to feel desperate. "Do you suppose I had better break the pantry window," she asked, "or possibly one of the cellar ones? I"ll pay for it out of my allowance. I think the pantry window would be the best, because the door at the head of the cellar stairs is likely to be locked and we might not be able to get upstairs if we did get into the cellar."
Nyoda was inspecting the upper windows of the house. "There is one open a little," she said; "the one over the side entrance." Gladys abandoned her idea of breaking the pantry window and bent her energies to reaching the open one. With the aid of Nyoda she climbed up the post of the little side porch, swung herself over the edge of the roof and raised the window.
"Stop where you are!" called a commanding voice. Gladys and Nyoda both started guiltily. A man was running across the lawn from the next estate. "Stop or I"ll call the police," he said, coming upon the drive.
He looked much disconcerted when Nyoda and Gladys both burst into a ringing peal of laughter. "Oh, it"s too funny for anything," said Gladys, wiping her eyes, "to be caught breaking into your own house.
You"re a good man, whoever you are, for keeping an eye on the house,"
she said to the puzzled-looking arrester, "but the joke is on you this time. This is my father"s house. I"m Gladys Evans. Give him one of my cards out of my purse, Nyoda, so he"ll believe it."
"I beg your pardon," said the man, convinced that Gladys had a right to enter the Evans"s house by the second-story window if she chose. "I"m the new gardener next door and I didn"t know you, and it always looks suspicious to see such goings-on."
"You did perfectly right," said Gladys, as he went back to his work.
Laughing extravagantly over their being taken for housebreakers, Gladys climbed into the window and went downstairs. Opening the front door a crack, she gave a low whistle which she fondly believed to be a burglar-like signal. Nyoda answered with a similar whistle. "Is that you, Diamond d.i.c.k?" she asked in a thrilling whisper.
"Who stands without?" asked Gladys.
"It is I, Dark-lantern Pete," hissed Nyoda.
"Give the countersign," commanded Gladys.
"Six buckets of blood!" replied Nyoda in a curdling voice.
Gladys admitted her into the house and they both sat down on the stairs and shrieked with laughter. "Oh, I can hardly wait until we get down to the car, so we can tell the other girls," said Gladys. "Caught in the act! My fair name is ruined. Now for some dinner."
"I"m hungry for a pickle," she said as they foraged in the pantry for something to eat. "Wait a minute until I go down cellar and get some."
As she opened the door of the cool cellar she started back in surprise.
On the floor lay Katy, the maid, unconscious. An overturned chair beside her and a shattered light globe told how she had tried to screw a new bulb into the fixture in the ceiling and had tipped over with the chair, striking her head on the cement floor. "Nyoda, come down here," called Gladys. Nyoda hastened down. Together they laid the unconscious girl on a pile of carpet and tried to revive her. After a few minutes" work Nyoda went upstairs and called the ambulance to take Katy to the hospital. When she had been examined by a surgeon and p.r.o.nounced badly stunned but not seriously injured, Gladys and Nyoda breathed a sigh of relief and left her in the care of the hospital.
"We"ve had enough excitement to-day to last a month," said Gladys, as they hastened tack to the house the second time to get the sweater and shoes. "I"m all tired out."
"So am I," said Nyoda.
"We have just time enough to make that four o"clock car, and none to spare," said Gladys, as they rode toward town in the street-car. As if everything were conspiring against them to-day, a heavy truck, loaded with boxes, got caught in the car-track right in front of them and blocked traffic for ten minutes. Gladys and Nyoda looked tragically at each other at this delay. Nyoda held up her watch significantly. It was ten minutes to four. Just then Gladys spied a man she knew in an automobile, slowly pa.s.sing the car. She called to him through the open window. "Will you take us in if we get off the car?" she asked. "We"re trying to make the four o"clock Limited."
"Certainly," agreed the obliging friend. The transfer of seats was soon made. "How much time have you?" asked the friend as he shoved in the spark.
"Ten minutes," replied Gladys.
"We"ll make it," said the friend, dodging between the vehicles that were standing around the disabled truck, helping to pull it from the car-tracks. Getting into a clear road, he opened the throttle and they proceeded like the wind for about six blocks. Then, for no apparent reason, the car slowed down, and with a whining whir of machinery came to a dead stop. "I"m afraid I can"t make good my promise to catch that car," said the friend in a vexed tone, after vainly trying to start the car for several minutes. "I"ll have to be towed to a garage," Nyoda and Gladys jumped out, hailed a pa.s.sing street-car and reached the station just five minutes too late. The Limited had already pulled out.
"Five girls with red ties?" repeated the crossing policeman when they made inquiries to find out if the other girls had gone and left them.
"They all got on the Limited." There was no doubt about their having gone, then.
"You know, you said if any were late they"d get left," said Gladys.
"Whoever was here for the car was to go and not wait. Won"t they laugh, though, at you being the late one?"
"There won"t be another Limited for two hours," said Nyoda impatiently, "and the local takes twice as long to get there. I"ll telephone Mrs.
Bates that we missed this car but will come out on the next Limited."
"Missed the car?" said Mrs. Bates, when they had her on the wire.
"That"s too bad. But you won"t have to wait for the other Limited. Our driver is in town to-day with the automobile and he can bring you out.