Betty Gordon in Washington Part 25

"You try to return Bob to the poorhouse!" she cried, her cheeks blazing, her hands clenched. She took a step toward Peabody and he fell back, dragging Bob with him so that a chair stood between them and the furious girl. "You try to return Bob to the poorhouse, and I'll tell every one what I know about that deed," flared Betty. "I know all about the Warren lots and the kind of sale you forced through. You--you--" to her distress and amazement, Betty burst into tears.

"Don't cry, dear," whispered Bobby, putting her arm around her.

"Daddy won't let them do anything to Bob. You see if he does."

Joseph Peabody was apparently impervious to verbal a.s.saults and tears.

"Once more I ask you," he shook Bob violently, "are you going to hand over that paper? Yes, or no?"

"I tell you I haven't got it," said Bob doggedly. "Shaking my teeth out won't help me get a paper I never saw in my life. As for having me arrested, you keep up this racket much longer and the hotel authorities will send for the police on their own responsibility."

Peabody picked up his hat.

"All right, you come along with me," he said sourly. "You won't go before a soft-headed police recorder this time, either. You'll find out what it means to face a real judge."

He was marching Bob toward the door when a sharp rap sounded.

Louise, nearest the door, had the presence of mind to open it. A bellboy stood there with a telegram on a tray.

"Telegram for Mr. Joseph Peabody," he announced impa.s.sively, his alert eyes darting about the room from which such angry voices had been coming for the last quarter of an hour.

"All right--give it here." The farmer s.n.a.t.c.hed the yellow envelope and shut the door in the boy's face without making a motion to tip him.

His back against the door, to prevent Bob's escape, Joseph Peabody slit the envelope and read the message. The others saw his jaw drop and a slow, painful flush creep over his face and neck.

"I'm called back to Bramble Farm right away," he mumbled, refusing to meet their gaze. "Being hurried, and having so much to tend to, I'm willing to drop the matter of having you arrested, Bob. But let this be a lesson to you, to hoe a straight row."

Bob stared at the man stupidly, frankly bewildered. But Betty's quick wit solved the sudden change of front. She had seen how quickly Peabody folded up the telegram when he had read it.

"Isn't that a message from Mrs. Peabody?" she demanded crisply. "And doesn't she say she's found the deed? Where was it--in one of your coat pockets?"

The farmer was taken by surprise, and the truth was shocked out of him.

"She's found it under the seat in the old market wagon," he blurted.

"I recollect I put it there for safe-keeping, meaning to take it over to the deposit box the next day. Well, I've wasted more time an'

money in Washington than I like to think of. Got to go home and make up for it."

Without another word or glance, without the shadow of an apology to Bob, he swung out of the room and strode over to the desk. In a moment they heard his harsh voice demanding the amount of his bill.

Bob looked at Betty, who stared back. Louise and Bobby were equally silent. Then Betty snickered, and the tension was broken. Peal after peal of laughter rang out, and they dropped helplessly into chairs and laughed till they could laugh no longer.

"Oh, dear!" Betty sat up, wiping her eyes. "Did you ever see anything like that? He never said good-by, or admitted that he'd made a mistake, or--or anything! What do you suppose people in the hotel must think of him?"

That reminded Bobby of the girl they had come to see and who was really responsible for their visit to the hotel.

"The first kind thing Ruth Royal ever did for me," she declared frankly. "I wouldn't have missed seeing Mr. Peabody for worlds."

"How did you ever happen to come here, Bob?" asked Betty, who had been wondering about this ever since she had seen Bob walk right into the one man he most wished to avoid.

"I brought a letter from Mr. Derby for one of the guests stopping here," explained Bob. "That reminds me, I haven't delivered it yet.

Peabody threw me off the track. I'll turn it in, and then I'll have to hurry back to the office; they'll think I've been run over for sure."

He went off, promising again to see them on Sat.u.r.day, and the girls, feeling too upset to settle down to the quietness of a motion picture house, went out to walk up and down in the sunshine of Pennsylvania Avenue until it was time to meet Mr. Littell and Libbie and Esther.

Of course they had much to tell them, and Mr. Littell in particular was a most appreciative listener. He was genuinely fond of Bob and interested in him, and he got quite purple with wrath when he learned of the indignity he had suffered at the hands of the ill-bred farmer.

"Then he went off and never had the grace to ask the lad's pardon!"

sputtered the builder when Betty reached the end of her recital. "I wish I had him by the collar--just for three minutes. Perhaps I wouldn't drive a little of the fear of justice into his narrow mind!"

They had lingered over their ice-cream, and although Carter drove at a good speed, they found that unless they hurried they would be late for dinner. It was one of Mrs. Littell's few unbreakable rules that the girls must change into simple, light frocks for the evening meal, and they went directly upstairs to take off their street clothes,

When they came down dinner had been announced and they went directly to the table. They had so much to tell Mrs. Littell and she was so interested that it was not until they were leaving the table that she remembered what she had meant to ask Betty as soon as the girl came in.

"Betty, darling," she said comfortably, "you found your letter on the hall table all right, didn't you?"

"Why, I never thought to look for mail," returned Betty in surprise.

"No, Mrs. Littell, I didn't stop in the hall. Was there a letter for me?"

Mrs. Littell nodded and swept her family across the hall into the living-room, saying something to her husband in a low voice. Betty hurried to the console table where the mail was always laid on a beaten silver tray. The solitary letter lying there was addressed to her. And the postmark, she saw as she picked it up, was a town in Oklahoma!

CHAPTER XXV

FUTURE PLANS

Betty's first impulse was to run up to her room and close the door.

Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and tore open the envelope eagerly. She read the half dozen closely written sheets through twice, thrust them back into the envelope, and ran down to tell the Littells the good news.

"I've heard from Uncle d.i.c.k!" she cried radiantly, facing them as they turned at her entrance. Betty's vivid personality often betrayed her mood without a word, and to-night she was vibrant with happiness so that she fairly glowed. "He has just got back to Flame City, where he found the telegram and my letters. And he wants me to come out to him, as he expects to be there for the next few months. He's been on a long prospecting trip, and he can't get East till his company sends out another representative. You may read the letter!"

She thrust it into Mr. Littell's hands and buried her head on Mrs.

Littell's broad shoulder.

"I'm so happy!" she choked, while the motherly hands smoothed her hair understandingly.

"It's been so long, and I was afraid he might have died--like my mother. I don't think I could stand it if Uncle d.i.c.k should die--he's the only one who belongs to me."

"Why, Betty, child!" Mrs. Littell gathered her into her lap and rocked her gently as though she had been a little child. "You're nervous and unstrung. We ought to have taken better care of you and not let this waiting wear you out so."

"If you're going to cry, Betty, so'll I," promised Bobby, putting an awkward arm around Betty's neck. Bobby was as undemonstrative as a boy and rarely kissed any one. "What in the wide world are we going to do without you?"

Betty sat up and pushed the damp hair from her forehead. The four girls were regarding her dolorously.

"I won't stay forever," she a.s.sured them. "Uncle d.i.c.k doesn't intend to live out there, you know. The company he represents will likely send him East this very winter."

"Well, that's a mighty interesting letter," commented Mr. Littell, folding up the missive and returning it to Betty. "Though you're going to leave a hole in this household, Sister, when you set sail.

You see, he's been out of sight and hearing of trains and post-offices for a long time. I'd like to be able to lose myself in the desert or a wilderness for a month or two. Think of having no telephone bell to answer!"