They almost stumbled up the concrete steps in their haste. The ramp, from the iron gates of which departed many trains for many places, was another place of milling crowds outside the station. A man in a portable information booth was answering questions in a very patient manner.
By listening, without asking, Terry and Arden learned from which track their train departed and the time. They had a few precious minutes left.
"Let"s look around out here and then go inside," proposed Terry, who was lugging along Sim"s bag with her own.
"She isn"t here," Arden sighed, after a search. "Let"s go inside the station."
There they looked about the big vaulted room: ticket offices on one side, a rank of telephone booths on another, a buffet restaurant, a magazine stand, a large candy booth. All of these spots were eagerly scanned without result.
Apparently just to say "h.e.l.lo" to friends, Terry and Arden went from one group of waiting girls to another, glimpsing the pretty, animated faces, but Sim"s was not among them. It seemed hopeless.
Now, really frightened, Arden and Terry clung together as the stentorian voice announced their train in long-drawn accents.
"We"ll have to go!" murmured Terry desperately.
"Yes. We can"t wait any longer. But she may be in the train." It was a sort of last hope for Arden.
"We can look, if it isn"t too crowded," Terry suggested.
But it was. In all the coaches, for most of the college girls had caught this train back, were repeated the same scenes, the same talk and laughter that had marked the going trip. The seekers could not locate Sim in the coach where they were crowded, and they did not dare pa.s.s from one car to another as the train quickly gathered speed after leaving Hoboken.
The ride back was almost a nightmare for Terry and Arden, and when the train pulled into the Morrisville station, which was the college stop, they were pale and more worried than ever.
"Maybe she is already here," breathed Terry, as they alighted. It was a brave attempt to brighten the situation.
"Maybe. Let"s hurry and see if she has signed in." Arden was only too glad to seize on Terry"s suggestion.
They almost ran along the path from the station to the college. Terry still insisted on clinging to Sim"s bag, though Arden wanted to do her share of carrying it. Then up those back-breaking stairs and into the big recreation room where the registry book was kept for this occasion.
Signing their own names, the two frightened freshmen scanned the pages for Sim"s.
"No, Arden, she hasn"t come in." Terry turned sadly from the book.
"I left a s.p.a.ce between your name and mine," Arden said, "so in case Sim comes in later she can slip hers in without being caught. Hurry, Terry, let"s get to our room so we can talk this out and decide upon--something."
CHAPTER XI Sim
Miles away from Cedar Ridge, Sim Westover idly turned the pages of a movie magazine. She was quite pleased with herself as she sat in a commuters" train, speeding toward Larchmont. It was dark now, and as Sim looked from the window her face was reflected in the gla.s.s as in a dull mirror. Just a hint of a shiny nose, but it was enough to cause her to open her envelope bag and search for her compact.
But what were those white envelopes?
Surely she hadn"t forgotten to leave that carefully composed note for the dean--and the one to Arden and Terry!
Yes, she had forgotten!
"My word! They"ll be worried to death!" Sim whispered in a gasp of dismay. "What a stupid thing to do! Write notes explaining everything and then take them with me!"
Sim settled herself deeper into the soft green plush of the seat and looked helplessly at the envelopes bearing the imposing red and gold seal of the Chancellor Hotel. She could imagine Terry and Arden dashing madly about asking everywhere for her. And she had intended to leave the note right where they would see it--on the bed near her packed bag.
"Oh," mused Sim, "if only they don"t do anything rash, such as notifying the police or phoning to my folks!"
The adventure she had planned to be such a fine thing was fast losing its savor.
Suppose her father was not in Larchmont, after all? But he must be. In his last letter to Sim he had mentioned, casually, this trip which was a reason why he couldn"t be in New York to greet her at the tea dance. He would be in Larchmont.
It had seemed such a fine idea, when Sim learned the soph.o.m.ores had not made the amount of money necessary even to start the repairs on the swimming pool, just to go to her father and ask him for it. It would be such a fine thing for the college, and Sim really must do some swimming.
She felt that she was ent.i.tled to it after coming to Cedar Ridge, having seen the pictures of the pool in the prospectus.
The others were dancing as Sim"s grand idea was engendered within her, and it seemed too bad to interrupt them. Besides, Arden would, very probably, try to stop her. The simplest thing would be just to write the notes, explaining, and go ahead.
The desk clerk at the hotel told her, when she asked, that she had fifteen minutes to get a train for Larchmont from the Grand Central Station. Sim was so glad she had remembered her father had written he was to be there for the week-end at the Newman home--planning another large branch store for business expansion.
"Oh, dear! What a fix to be in! I suppose I"ll be expelled! Mother will feel terribly bad, and Dad----Oh, dear!" Sim sighed aloud.
But there was nothing she could do now. There were the forgotten letters which would have made everything all right. She had hurried up to the room, slipping away from the dance, had written the notes, put them in her bag, and changed her dress. She intended leaving them just before going out of the room. But a glance at the electric clock showed her there was little time to catch a taxi for the Grand Central in time to make the train, and in her haste----
The train ran along smoothly. The clickety-click of the wheels over the rail joints mocked Sim with their ever recurring:
"Forgot! Forgot! Forgot!"
She grew more upset and worried. She pulled back her coat sleeve and glanced at her wrist watch.
Nine o"clock!
By this time the girls would be taking the train for Morrisville. What had they done about her disappearance? Sim hated to think about it. This was, indeed, the deepest hole she had ever been in.
The conductor opened the door and shouted:
"Larch-_mont_! _Larch_-mont! All out for LARCH-MONT!"
Sim gathered her things together and prepared to leave.
As she alighted from the train, the thought came to her that she must at once go in the station and telephone Arden. But another glance at her watch caused her to hesitate. Arden and Sim might not be in Cedar Ridge yet. So she decided to wait until she reached the house of her father"s friend and to telephone from there.
She approached a taxi and gave the address to the driver. The ride was not long, and soon was on the steps waiting to be admitted at the Newman house.
It was Mr. Newman himself who opened the door.
"Why, Sim Westover!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? We thought you were safely in bed at Cedar Ridge. But come in! Take off your things!"
"Good-evening, Mr. Newman," Sim said quickly. "I should be at Cedar Ridge, but something very important came up, and I decided, in a hurry, to come up here to see Dad. I was in New York at a dance. Dad is here, isn"t he?"
"Why, no, Sim, he isn"t. He telephoned me, late this afternoon, that he couldn"t make it after all. Is anything the matter?"