Lucile Triumphant Part 1

Lucile Triumphant.

by Elizabeth M. Duffield.

CHAPTER I

"GREETINGS, FELLOW-TRAVELERS"

The great news was out! Two girls regarded their companion in open-mouthed astonishment.

"Europe!" cried Jessie. "Lucy, will you please say that all over again and say it slowly," she begged leaning forward tensely.

Lucile's eyes danced as she repeated slowly and with great emphasis, "I said just this--Dad is going to Europe and he intends to take me with him."

The girls were incredulous.

"But, wh-when are you going?" stammered Evelyn, dazedly.

"In three weeks at the outside, maybe sooner," Lucile answered, then added, with feigned reproach, "you don't, either of you, seem a bit glad."

"Oh, we are, we are," they protested, and Evelyn added, "It just took our breath away, that's all."

"Lucile, it's the finest thing that ever happened to you," said Jessie, impulsively throwing her arms about her friend.

The latter returned the embrace with equal fervor, but her eyes were retrospective as she answered, "Oh, it's wonderful, of course, and I haven't even begun to get used to it yet, but I don't think it's any greater than----"

"Oh, I know what you mean," Evelyn broke in. "You mean Mayaro River and Aloea and ranks and things like that----"

"Exactly," laughed Lucile, her face flushing with the memory, "and honors and guardians and races and----"

"Oh, stop her, someone, quick," begged Jessie gayly. "If you don't she'll keep it up all day," then more gravely, "It was wonderful and none of us will ever forget it--but, Lucy, do, oh, do tell us more about Europe before I die of curiosity!"

"Oh, yes, please go on," urged Evelyn; "we want to hear all about how it happened, and just when you're going to start and how long you expect to stay and----"

"Slow up a little," begged Lucile, in dismay. "I'll tell you everything in time, but I must have time!"

"Come out, time, you're wanted," cried Evelyn, pushing aside the bushes as though in search of the runaway.

"I suppose you think you're funny," sniffed Jessie, disdainfully. "But I feel obliged to tell you as a friend----"

"Cease!" commanded Lucile, sternly. "If you don't stop at once and listen respectfully and attentively to what I have to say, I'll----"

"Well, what will you do," Evelyn challenged, with an heroic air of braving the worst. "Tell us, now--what will you do?"

Lucile paused to consider for a moment, then announced, gravely, "There is only one punishment great enough for such a crime----"

"And that----" they breathed.

"That," repeated Lucile, sternly, "would be to remove the light of my presence----"

"Oh if that's all you needn't mind about us," said Jessie, evidently relieved.

"Go on, Lucy," urged Evelyn, virtuously. "I won't interrupt again."

"Better get started before she repents," advised Jessie.

"Sound advice," Lucile agreed, ironically, though her eyes snapped with fun. "I don't see why two people can't get along without throwing hatchets at each other's heads all the time. But never mind that," she added, hastily, seeing signs of more "hatchets."

"All I have to say is, it isn't my fault," murmured Jessie.

"The only way to treat the lower cla.s.ses is to ignore them absolutely,"

Evelyn retorted, turning her back on Jessie. "Now, Lucy, what were you saying?"

"I was _trying_ to say something about my trip----" she began.

"Oh, yes, how long are you going to stay?"

"All summer."

"Oh, you lucky, lucky girl," cried Jessie. "You do certainly have the most wonderful luck. Not but what you deserve every bit of it and more,"

she added, warmly.

"There's just one thing in the world on which we both agree," laughed Evelyn, "and that's it!"

They looked with fond and justified pride upon the laughing recipient of their praise. From anybody's point of view, Lucile was good to look upon.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes and bubbled over from lips always curved in a merry smile. "Just to look at Lucile is enough to chase away the blues," Jessie had once declared in a loving eulogy on her friend. "But when you need sympathy, there is no one quicker to give it than Lucy."

From her ma.s.s of wind-blown curls to the tips of her neat little tennis shoes she was the spirit incarnate of the sport-loving, fun-seeking summer girl.

Then there was their summer at camp the year before, when Lucile had led them undauntedly and as a matter of course through experiences and dangers that would have dazed the other girls.

And then had come the crowning glory, the climax of their wonderful summer--the race! They felt again the straining of that moment when, with half a length to make up and scant twenty yards from the goal, she had led them in the glorious, madcap dash to victory! From that day on she had reigned supreme in the girls' warm hearts, and there was not one of them but felt "that nothing was too good for her."

"Let's be thankful for small blessings," laughed Lucile, referring to Evelyn's last remark. "By the way, girls, have you heard about Margaret?"

"No; what is it?" They were all eager interest at once.

"Why, Judge Stillman called a consultation yesterday and the doctors p.r.o.nounced Margaret absolutely cured!"

"Hurrah!" cried Jessie, springing up from the rock she had been using as a seat. "We knew she was better, but--oh, say, isn't it great?"

"Rather; but that isn't all," said Lucile. "The Judge insists that we have done it all--and the camp-fire, too, of course."

"Oh, nonsense," Evelyn exclaimed. "It was the woods and the air and the water that did it. That was all she needed."

"Humph, speak for yourself," Jessie interposed. "I admit she could have done without you very well; I could myself, but----"

"Do I hear a gentle murmur as of buzz-saws buzzing?" quoth Evelyn, dreamy eyes fixed on s.p.a.ce. "Methinks it grows more rasping of late----"