Cap'n Dan's Daughter Part 44

"Daddy," she said, "will you post this for me?"

Her father looked up from the pile of papers on the writing table before him. He, too, appeared somewhat worried.

"Sartin," he announced promptly. "I've got a stack of stuff for the postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena usually attends to the house bills, but she's kind of under the weather this morning. Say, Gertie," gravely, "it costs a sight to run this place, did you know it?"

"I suppose it does."

"You bet it does! Why, I never realized--But there, I suppose likely these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. Good land! if they ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask Serena about 'em by and by, when she's better. Give me your letter, Gertie, I'll mail it."

"You won't forget?"

"Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em to the postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? You're pretty prompt in your writin', ain't you? But that's natural; I remember when I used to write your mother twice a day. It's a wonder she stood it and kept her health, ain't it. Ha! ha!"

He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. Gertrude left the room.

Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of envelopes on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford entered, seeking the cigar box.

"Good-morning," he observed, cheerfully.

Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy smiled. A querulous voice called from the second floor.

"Daniel!" called Serena. "Daniel, where are you? Why don't you come up?

I am all alone."

The captain sprang to his feet, "Comin'! Serena!" he shouted. "Comin'!"

He hurried out. Mr. Hungerford, left alone, helped himself to a cigar and strolled about the room. The pile of letters on the table caught his attention. Idly he turned the envelopes over, examining the addresses.

All at once his interest became less casual; one of the written names had caught his attention.

Five minutes later the postman rang the doorbell. Captain Dan ran downstairs, entered the library, seized the letters from the table and hastened to hand them to the carrier.

"Daddy!" called Gertrude from above, "did you post my letter?"

"Sure!" was the prompt answer. "Just gave it to the mail man. It's on the road now."

Serena's "nerves" were in much better condition the following day, and her spirits likewise. Gertrude, however, was still grave and absent-minded and non-communicative. Toward Mr. Hungerford in particular she was cool and distant, answering his chatty remarks and solicitous inquiries concerning her health with monosyllables, and, on several occasions, leaving the room when he entered it. This state of affairs was even more marked on the second day after Mr. Doane's abrupt departure, and still more so on the third. She seemed nervously expectant when the postman brought the mail, and depressed when each consignment contained no letter for her. On the fourth day this depression was so marked that her father asked the cause.

"What ails you, Gertie?" he inquired. "You look as if you just come from a funeral. What's wrong?"

Gertrude, who was standing by the window, looking out, answered without turning her head.

"Nothing," she said shortly.

"Well, I'm glad of that. I thought you was troubled in your mind about somethin'. Ain't frettin' about John, are you?"

His daughter looked at him now, and the look was a searching one.

"About--Why should I fret about him, pray?" she asked slowly.

"I don't know. I thought maybe his goin' away so sudden was a sort of disappointment to you. 'Twas to the rest of us. Hey? Did you say somethin'?"

"No."

"Oh, I thought you did. Well, you mustn't be disappointed, Gertie. You see, business is business. John did what he thought was right and--"

"Daddy, do be still. I do not intend to trouble myself about--him. Don't talk to me, please. I don't feel like talking."

Daniel talked no more, at that time, but he wondered, and determined to ask Serena her opinion when the opportunity came.

It did not come immediately. A new development in Chapter politics was occupying Mrs. Dott's mind, a development so wonderful and so glorious in its promise that that lady could think or speak of little else.

Mrs. Lake's term as president of Scarford Chapter was nearing its end.

Annette Black, the vice-president, would have been, in the regular course of events, Mrs. Lake's successor to the high office. But Mrs.

Lake and Annette, bosom friends for years, had had a falling out. At first merely a disagreement, it had been aggravated and developed into a bitter quarrel. The two ladies did not speak to each other. Annette announced her candidacy in meeting, and the very next day Mrs. Lake came to Serena with an amazing proposition.

The proposition was this: Mrs. Lake, it seemed, wished to become secretary of the National Legion. In order to do this--or to become even a prominent candidate--it was necessary for her to have the support of the officers of her own Chapter. If Mrs. Black was elected president she most decidedly would not have this support.

"That woman is a cat," she declared, "a spiteful underhanded cat. After all I have done for her! Why, she never would have been vice-president if it had not been for me! And just because she heard that I said something--something about her that was perfectly true, even if I did not say it--she broke out in committee and said things to me that--that I never shall forget, never! She shan't be president. I have as many friends as she has and I'll see to that. Now, my dear Mrs. Dott, I am counting on you--and your daughter, of course--as among those friends.

We must select some woman for the presidency who will command the respect and get the votes of all disinterested members. Miss Canby wants the office, but she is too closely identified with me to be perfectly safe. But our party--I and my friends, I mean--have been considering the matter and we have decided that a dark horse--that is what the politicians call it--a dark horse is bound to win. We must get the right kind of dark horse. And we think we have it--him--her, I mean. YOU shall be our candidate. YOU shall be president of Scarford Chapter."

Serena gasped.

"Me?" she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured correctness of speech. "Me? President?"

"Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are known to be rich--I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. We can elect you and we will. Isn't it splendid? I'm SO proud to be the one to bring you the news!"

There was one strong qualification possessed by Mrs. Dott which the bearer of good news omitted to mention. Serena was supposed to be Annette Black's most devoted friend. Announcement of her candidacy would have the effect of splitting the Black party in twain. Mrs. Lake and her followers were very much aware of this, although their spokeswoman said nothing about it.

"You'll accept, of course," gushed Mrs. Lake. "Of course you will. I shall be so proud to vote and work for you."

Serena hesitated. The honor of being president of her beloved Chapter was a dazzling prospect. And yet--and yet--

"You will, won't you?" begged the caller.

"No," said Serena. "No, Mrs. Lake, I can't. I could not run against Annette Black. She is my best and dearest friend. If it were not for her I should not have come to Scarford at all. It would be treachery of the meanest kind. No, Mrs. Lake, I am not that kind of a friend. No."

"But--"

"Please don't speak of it again. I am ashamed even to hear you. Let's talk of something else."

But Mrs. Lake did not want to talk of anything else. She urged and argued and pleaded in vain. Then she began to lose her temper. The parting was not cordial.

And then came Mrs. Black, herself. She, somehow or other, had learned of the offer to be made Serena. When she found that the latter had refused that offer because of loyalty to her, she fairly bubbled over.

"You dear!" she cried, embracing her hostess. "You dear, splendid thing!

It was what I expected; I knew you'd do it; but I'm SO happy and SO grateful. I never shall forget it--never. And whenever I can prove my loyalty and devotion to you, be sure I shall do it."

Serena was touched and gratified, but there was just a shade of disappointment in her tone as she answered.