Lucile Triumphant Part 23

CHAPTER XVI

THE RED-LETTER DAY

"Hang the luck!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Phil, flinging aside his book in disgust.

"Here it is, our first day over, and look at it!" And, drawing aside the light chintz curtains, he disclosed a view that was, to say the least, very discouraging.

The rain came down in torrents, rebounding from the shining pavement and the no less shining umbrellas of pa.s.sing pedestrians, with vicious little pops and hisses that sounded more like a storm of tiny daggers than of raindrops. As time went on, instead of lightening, the sky had grown murkier and murkier and darker and darker, until, in many parts of the hotel, people had been forced to turn on the lights. Over and about everything hung that moist, indefinably depressing atmosphere that makes one rail at fate and long for the blessing of the sun and a clear day.

Such was Phil's enviable state of mind as he dropped the curtain and slumped back into his chair with an impatient grunt.

"'Tis rather mean, isn't it?" drawled Jessie, dropping her book and looking at the disconsolate Phil lazily. "You don't happen to have any more of those candies around you anywhere, do you, Evelyn?" she queried.

"Hardly. How long do you think they last when you're around?" answered Evelyn, without raising her eyes from the magazine she was reading.

With a quick movement, Jessie reached over and pulled the candy box toward her before Evelyn could interfere.

"A-ha, I thought so!" she cried. "I was sure they couldn't all have vanished so quickly, you unscrupulous--"

"Beg pardon!" interrupted Evelyn, blandly.

"Well, you are, anyway," Jessie maintained. "What do you mean, no more left? Here are half a dozen at least."

"Well, you know you've eaten half a box already, Jessie," Evelyn was beginning, severely, when Jessie interrupted.

"But, Evelyn, what else is there to do on a day like this?" she pleaded plaintively. "We can't make any noise, for fear that we'll annoy the other people, and we can't go out----"

This was more than Phil could stand.

"Eat all the candy you want, Jessie, and when you've finished what you have, I'll buy you some more," and he sauntered out, hands in pocket, despite all his mother's training, and whistling mournfully.

"Seems to me you have him very well tamed, Jessie," gibed Evelyn. "Just the same, I'm going to pray for clear weather."

"Why the sudden fervor?" asked Jessie, munching away happily.

"Because if you take Phil's advice and eat all the chocolates that you want to while it rains, and it doesn't clear up soon--well, all I have to say is----"

Jessie laughed, but added, more seriously, "I guess maybe you're right, after all. There was a time when I'd nearly given up the habit, but now I'm just about as bad as ever. I'm afraid our guardian might not like it."

"Of course she wouldn't," said Evelyn, seizing upon the opportunity eagerly. "Do you know, Jessie, there's been so much going on and so much excitement that we have--well, rather lost sight of the camp-fire idea, don't you think?"

"I was thinking just that very thing the other day," replied Jessie, slowly, putting down a half-finished candy. "It ought to mean just as much to us now, and more, for that matter, than it ever did before----"

"Girls, girls, girls!" sang out Lucile, bursting in upon them, with cheeks like two red roses, and waving something white aloft in the air.

"We've got some letters, some beautiful, thick, booky letters, and you'll never guess whom they're from."

The girls ran to the sofa, where Lucile had flung herself with a pile of letters in her lap, and hung over the back of it excitedly.

"Oh, go on, Lucy; show them to us!" cried Evelyn, as Lucile put both her hands teasingly over the letters, inviting them to "guess."

"If you don't hand over my property before I count five," threatened Jessie, "I shall be compelled to use force."

"Well, in that case," laughed the threatened one, "I suppose I'll have to----"

"Oh, Lucy, you know you always were my favorite che-ild," begged Evelyn, melodramatically. "I'll destroy the old will and make a new one, leaving everything----"

"To me," finished Jessie, at the same time making a lunge at the tempting little pile of paper.

"Oh, go on!" cried Lucile, and, dodging out-stretched arms, made a dash for the door, only to be captured and brought back by two indignant and protesting girls to the sofa.

"Oh, we will be put out of the hotel," gasped Lucile, between laughs.

"We're making no end of noise. Now, if you two girls will only sit down and behave like sensible--"

"Huh!" broke in Evelyn. "We were only demanding our just rights."

"You would better hasten, Lucile Payton," said Jessie, with her best heavy-villain scowl. "My patience is dangerously near an end."

"All right," Lucile capitulated, patting the sofa on either side of her invitingly. "Sit down here and I'll hand them out just as they come."

"And we'll read each one aloud before we open the next one," Jessie suggested, eagerly.

"That's right," a.s.sented Evelyn. "Whom is the first one from, Lucy?"

"The first one," drawled Lucile, turning it up with aggravating deliberation, "is for Evelyn, from----"

"Miss--er--our guardian," cried Evelyn, s.n.a.t.c.hing the envelope unceremoniously. "Oh, oh, oh! Got a letter opener, Lucy? Oh, all right; anything. Hairpin? Thanks! Oh, girls, what has she got to say?"

"I might suggest that the best way to find out is to read it," said Jessie, and immediately became the recipient of a withering stare from Evelyn, who was opening the letter with trembling, clumsy fingers.

"My dear little girl," she read and then stopped and looked from one to the other pleadingly. "I can't do it; I can't read it out loud----"

"Don't try," said Lucile, putting an arm around her. "I know exactly how you feel. We would better read them first and compare notes afterward."

"That's right," agreed Jessie. "I didn't think how hard it would be to read them out loud when I suggested it. Better give them all out together, Lucy."

"Well, here's one to you from your mother, I guess, Jessie, and another from your father, and one for you from your mother, Evelyn, and one for me----"

"From whom?" interrupted Jessie.

"Our guardian," answered Lucile, touching it lovingly. "And here is yours, Jessie," she added, handing her a letter in the well-known and well-loved handwriting. "Isn't she dear to remember each one of us like that? And oh, here are whole stacks of letters from the girls--one from Margaret--here, Jess----" And so on until each had a little pile of her own.

"And whom is that from, Lucy?" asked Evelyn, as Lucile picked up the last letter, looked at the unfamiliar handwriting curiously, then looked again more closely, while the tips of her ears became very pink.

"I--I don't know," she stammered. "It's for me, and--oh, well, I'll open it later on," and she tucked it among the others, just to gain time, as she explained it to herself.

"No, you don't! No, you don't!" cried Evelyn. "We have stumbled upon a deep, dark mystery and it must be cleared up at once, at once. Come on, Lucy; who wrote that letter?"