Billie Bradley on Lighthouse Island Part 28

They told Connie's mother and father about it at the breakfast table, and before they got through the meal the two older people were almost as interested and excited as the girls.

As soon as she could get away Billie flew upstairs to write her letter, leaving the others still at the table. The children had already had their breakfast--for like all children they woke up with the birds--and were out playing on the front porch.

"Why, I never heard anything like it!" said Connie's mother to her equally astonished husband. "It seems like a fairy tale. But, oh, I do hope it is true--for the kiddies' sake and for that of that poor Miss Arbuckle."

Again and again Mrs. Danvers had tried to question the children about their parents and where they lived, but the little things had seemed to be thrown into such terror at the very first questions and had refused so absolutely to say a word that might lead to the discovery of their relatives that she had been forced to give up in despair. Just the very night before Mr. Danvers had decided to go over to the mainland and put an advertis.e.m.e.nt in all the leading papers.

"Although I rather dread to find their guardians," he had confided to his wife that night, as they had stood looking down at the sweet little sleeping faces. "I'm falling in love with them. It's like having Connie a baby all over again."

And Connie's mother had patted his arm fondly and reached down to draw a cover up over one little bare arm.

"I feel that way too," she had said softly.

When Billie had finished her letter Mr. Danvers volunteered to take it over to the mainland for her and send it special delivery.

"You won't put the ad in the paper then, will you?" his wife asked as he started off.

"No," he said, stooping down to pat the little boy's dark head. "I'll give Billie a chance to clear up her mystery first." And with a smile at Billie he swung off down the walk while with quickened hearts the girls and Mrs. Danvers watched him go.

Suddenly the little fellow got up from the hollow in the sand where he and his sisters had been making sand pies and ran up to Billie, waving his shovel excitedly.

"Him goin' 'way?" he asked, pointing down the beach toward Mr. Danvers.

"Yes. But he's coming back," said Billie, catching the little fellow up and kissing his soft rosy cheek. Then she looked at the girls and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, girls," she cried, "I don't see how I'm going to give him up!"

Then followed days of anxious waiting for the girls. Every night when the mail came in on the _Mary Ann_ they were at the dock to meet it. But though they searched for a letter postmarked Molata with eager eyes, day after day went by and still there was no word from Miss Arbuckle.

This state of affairs continued for over a week until the girls had begun to give up in despair. And then one night it came--the letter they had been waiting for.

They did not wait to get home, but sat down on the edge of the dock while Billie read it aloud.

The letter was such a mixture of joy and hope and fear that sometimes the girls had hard work making anything out of it. However, this much was clear: Miss Arbuckle intended to leave Molata Friday night--and this was Friday night--and would probably be at Lighthouse Island Sat.u.r.day morning. And to-morrow was Sat.u.r.day!

"She says," Billie finished, her voice trembling with excitement, "that the reason she didn't write to us before was because she was out of town and didn't receive my letter for almost a week after it reached Three Towers Hall. She says----"

"Oh, who cares about that?" cried Laura impatiently. "The main thing is that she will be here to-morrow."

"Only a little over twelve hours to wait."

The girls did not sleep very well that night, and they were up and dressed and at the dock almost an hour before the steamer was due.

They were so nervous that they could not stand still, and it was just as well that the _Mary Ann_ was a little early that morning, or the dock would have been worn out completely, Connie declared.

"Oh, Billie, suppose she doesn't come?" whispered Vi as the boat slid into the dock. "Suppose----"

"No suppose about it," Billie whispered back joyfully. "Look, Vi! There she is."

"But who is the man with her?" cried Laura suddenly, as Miss Arbuckle waved to them from the upper deck and then started down the narrow winding stairway, followed by a tall, rather stoop-shouldered man who seemed to the girls to have something vaguely familiar about him.

"He may not be with her," Billie answered. But suddenly she gasped. Miss Arbuckle had stepped upon the dock with hands outstretched to the girls, and as the tall man followed her Billie got her first full look at his face.

It was Hugo Billings, the mysterious maker of fern baskets whom they had found in his hut in the woods!

As for the man, he seemed as much astonished as the girls, and he stood staring at them and they at him while Miss Arbuckle looked from one to the other in amazement.

"What's the matter?" she cried. "Hugo, have you met the girls before?"

"Why, why yes," stammered the man, a smile touching his lips.

"You see we were lost in the woods and he very kindly showed us the way out," said Billie, finding her voice at last.

"Oh," said Miss Arbuckle.

Then she introduced her companion to the girls as "my brother" and once more the girls thought they must be losing their minds. But this time Miss Arbuckle did not seem to notice their bewilderment, for her whole mind was on the object that had brought her here.

"The children?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. "Are they here?"

"They are at my house, Miss Arbuckle," said Connie, recovering from her bewilderment enough to realize that she was the hostess. "I suppose you're crazy to see them."

"Oh yes! Oh yes!" cried the teacher. Then, as Connie led the way on toward the cottage, she turned to Billie eagerly.

"Billie," she said, "are you sure you recognized my children? If I should be disappointed now I--I think it would kill me. Tell me, what do they look like?"

As Billie described the waifs Miss Arbuckle's face grew brighter and brighter and the man whom the girls had called Hugo Billings leaned forward eagerly.

"I guess there's no mistake this time, Mary," he said, and there was infinite relief in his tone.

When they reached the cottage the children were playing in the sand as usual, and the girls drew back, leaving Miss Arbuckle and her brother to go on alone.

Miss Arbuckle had grown very white, and she reached out a hand to her brother for support. Then she leaned forward and called very softly: "Davy, Davy, dear."

The children stopped playing and stared up at the visitors. But it was the little fellow who recognized them first.

"Mary! My Mary!" he cried in his baby voice, and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him straight into Miss Arbuckle's arms. Then the little girls ran to her, and Miss Arbuckle dropped down in the sand and hugged them and kissed them and cried over them.

"Oh, my children! My darling, darling children!" she cried over and over again, while the man stood looking down at them with such a look of utter happiness on his face that the girls turned away.

"Come on," whispered Billie, and they slipped past the two and into the house.

Connie's mother and father were in the library, and when the girls told them what had happened they hurried out to greet the newcomers, leaving the chums alone.

"Well, now," said Laura, sinking down on the couch and looking up at them, "what do you think of that?"

"I'm so dazed, I don't know what to think of it," said Billie, adding, with a funny little laugh: "The only thing we do know is that everybody's happy."

"Talk about mysteries----" Connie was beginning when Connie's mother and Miss Arbuckle came in with the clamoring, excited children. And to say that Miss Arbuckle's face was radiant would not have been describing it at all.

"Oh girls, girls!" she cried, looking around at them, while her eyes filled with tears, "do you know what you've done for me--do you? But of course you don't," she answered herself, sitting down on the couch while the children climbed up and snuggled against her. "And that's what I want to tell you."