The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale Part 1

The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale.

by Laura Lee Hope.

CHAPTER I

A FLUTTERING PAPER

Four girls were walking down an elm-shaded street. Four girls, walking two by two, their arms waist-encircling, their voices mingling in rapid talk, punctuated with rippling laughter--and, now and then, as their happy spirits fairly bubbled and overflowed, breaking into a few waltz steps to the melody of a dreamy song hummed by one of their number. The sun, shining through the trees, cast patches of golden light on the stone sidewalk, and, as the girls pa.s.sed from sunshine to shadow, they made a bright, and sometimes a dimmer, picture on the street, whereon were other groups of maidens. For school was out.

"Betty Nelson, the idea is perfectly splendid!" exclaimed the tallest of the quartette; a stately, fair girl with wonderful braids of hair on which the sunshine seemed to like to linger.

"And it will be such a relief from the ordinary way of doing things,"

added the companion of the one who thus paid a compliment to her chum just in advance of her. "I detest monotony!"

"If only too many things don't happen to us!" This somewhat timid observation came from the quietest of the four--she who was walking with the one addressed as Betty.

"Why, Amy Stonington!" cried the girl who had first spoken, as she tossed her head to get a rebellious lock of hair out of her dark eyes. "The very idea! We _want_ things to happen; don't we, Betty?" and she caught the arm of one who seemed to be the leader, and whirled her about to look into her face. "Answer me!" she commanded. "Don't we?"

Betty smiled slightly, revealing her white, even teeth. Then she said laughingly, and the laugh seemed to illuminate her countenance:

"I guess Grace meant certain kinds of happenings; didn't you, Grace?"

"Of course," and the rather willowy creature, whose style of dress artistically accentuated her figure, caught a pencil that was slipping from a book, and thrust it into the ma.s.s of light hair that was like a crown to her beauty.

"Oh, that's all right, then," and Amy, who had interposed the objection, looked relieved. She was a rather quiet girl, of the character called "sweet" by her intimates; and truly she had the disposition that merited the word.

"When can we start?" asked Grace Ford. Then, before an answer could be given, she added: "Don't let's go so fast. We aren't out to make a walking record to-day. Let's stop here in the shade a moment."

The four came to a halt beneath a great horsechestnut tree, that gave welcome relief from the sun, which, though it was only May, still had much of the advance hint of summer in it. There was a carriage block near the curb, and Grace "draped herself artistically about it," as Mollie Billette expressed it.

"If you're tired now, what will you be if we walk five or six miles a day?" asked Betty with a smile. "Or even more, perhaps."

"Oh, I can if I have to--but I don't have to now. Come, Betty, tell us when we are to start."

"Why, we can't decide now. Are you so anxious all of a sudden?" and Betty pulled down and straightened the blue middy blouse that had been rumpled by her energetic chums.

"Of course. I detest waiting--for trains or anything else. I'm just dying to go, and I've got the cutest little traveling case. It--"

"Has a special compartment for chocolates; hasn't it, Grace?" asked Mollie Billette, whose dark and flashing eyes, and black hair, with just a shade of steely-blue in it, betrayed the French blood in her veins.

"Oh, Grace couldn't get along without candy!" declared Betty, with a smile.

"Now that's mean!" exclaimed Grace, whose tall and slender figure, and face of peculiar, winsome beauty had gained her the not overdrawn characterization of "Gibson girl." "I don't see why Billy wants to always be saying such horrid things about me!"

"I didn't say anything mean!" snapped Mollie, whose pseudonym was more often "Billy" than anything else. "And I don't want you to say that I do!" Her eyes flashed, and gave a hint of the hidden fire of temper which was not always controlled. The other girls looked at her a bit apprehensively.

"If you don't like the things I say," she went on, "there are those who do. And what's more--"

"Billy," spoke Betty, softly. "I'm sure Grace didn't mean--"

"Oh, I know it!" exclaimed Mollie, contritely. "It was horrid of me to flare up that way. But sometimes I can't seem to help it. I beg your pardon, Grace. Eat as many chocolates as you like. I'll help you. Isn't that generous?"

She clasped her arms about the "Gibson-girl," and held her cheek close to the other's blushing one.

"Don't mind me!" she cried, impulsively. Mollie was often this way--in a little whirlwind of temper one moment, and sweetly sorry for it the next, albeit her little spasms of rage were never serious, and seldom lasted long.

"Forgiven," murmured Grace. "But I am really anxious to know when we can start our Camping and Tramping Club. I think the idea is perfectly splendid! How did you come to think of it, Betty?"

"I got the idea from a book--it isn't original by any means. But then I always have been fond of walking--out in the country especially.

Only it isn't so much fun going alone. So it occurred to me that you girls would like to join. We can take a nice long tramp the first opportunity we get."

"Just us four?" asked Grace.

"No, not necessarily. We can have as many members as we like."

"I think four is a nice number," spoke Amy. She was rather shy, and not given to making new friends.

"We four--no more!" declaimed Mollie. "Suppose we do limit it to four, Betty?"

"Well, we can talk of that later. And I do so want to talk of it. I thought we'd never get out of school," and the four who had just been released from the Deepdale High School continued their stroll down the main street of the town, talking over the new plan that had been proposed that morning by Betty Nelson--the "Little Captain," as she was often called by her chums, for she always a.s.sumed the leadership in their fun and frolics.

"Will we just walk--walk all the while?" asked Grace. "I'm afraid I shan't be able to keep up to you girls in that case," and she swung about on the sidewalk in a few steps of a mazy waltz with Amy.

"Of course we won't walk all the while," explained Betty. "I haven't all the details arranged yet, but we can set a certain number of miles to cover each day. At night we'll stop somewhere and rest."

"That's good," sighed Grace, with a glance at her small and daintily shod feet.

"Oh, here comes your brother Will!" Betty called to her.

"And that horrid Percy Falconer is with him," went on Mollie. "I--I can't bear him!"

"He's seen Betty--that's why he's hurrying so," spoke Grace. "Probably he's bought a new cane he wants to show her."

"Stop it!" commanded Betty, with a blush. "You know I can't bear him any more than you girls can."

"You can't make Percy believe that--my word!" and Mollie imitated the mannerism perfectly. For young Falconer, be it known, was partial to good clothes of a rather flashy type, and much given to showing them off. He had very little good sense--in fact, what little he had, some of his enemies used to say, he displayed when he showed a preference for pretty Betty Nelson. But she would have none of his company.

"I don't see why Will wants to bring him along," remarked his sister Grace, in a petulant tone. "He knows we don't like him."

"Perhaps Will couldn't help it," suggested Amy.

"That's nice of you to say, Amy," commented Grace. "I'll tell Will--some time when I get a chance."

"Don't you dare! If you do I'll never speak to you again!" and the pink surged to a deeper red in Amy's cheeks.

"Betty'd much rather have Will pick up Allen Washburn," remarked Mollie, in decisive tones. "Wouldn't you, Bet?"