Betty Gordon at Boarding School/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII
TOO MUCH PARTY
Betty shared a room with Bobby. The single beds were separated by a table on which an electric drop light and the water pitcher and glasses were placed.
Betty's first impulse was to snap on the light, but as she put out her hand, Esther grasped her wrist.
"It's only me," she whispered, her teeth chattering with fright. "Don't wake Bobby up."
"Are you cold?" asked Betty, sitting up anxiously. "Perhaps you were too warm dancing. Do you want to get into bed with me?"
It was a warm night for October, and Betty was at a loss to understand Esther's shivering.
"I can't find Libbie!" Esther cried. "Oh, Betty, I never thought she would do it, never."
Betty reached for her dressing gown and slippers.
"Don't cry, or you'll wake up Bobby," she advised the sobbing Esther. "Come on, I'll go back with you. Don't make a noise."
The girls occupied three connecting rooms, and Esther and Libbie had slept in the end of the suite. To reach it now, the two girls had to go through the room where Louise and Frances lay slumbering peacefully. Betty breathed a sigh of relief when they gained Esther's room and she closed the door carefully and turned on the light.
Esther's bed, madly tumbled, and Libbie's, evidently occupied that night, but now empty, were revealed.
Esther dropped down on the floor, wrapping her kimono about her, and regarded Betty trustfully. She was sure her friend would straighten things out.
"Where is LIbble?" demanded Betty. "What is she doing?"
"I don't know," admitted Esther unhappily. "But I tell you what I think—I think she's eloped!"
Esther was only eleven, and as she sat on the floor and stared at Betty from great wet blue eyes, she seemed very young indeed.
"Eloped!" gasped Betty. "Why, I never heard of such a thing!"
"She's always talking about it," the younger girl wailed, beginning to cry again. "She says it's the most romantic way to be married, and she means to throw her hope chest out of the window first and slide down a rope made of bedsheets."
"Well, I think it's very silly to talk like that," scolded Betty. "And, what's more, Esther, however much Libble may talk of eloping, she hasn't done it this time. All her clothes are here, and her shoes and her hat. Here's her purse on the dresser, too."
"I never thought of looking to see if her clothes were here," confessed Esther. "But then, where is she, Betty?"
"That's what I mean to find out," announced Betty, with more confidence than she felt. "Come on, Esther. And don't trip on your kimono or walk into anything."
They tiptoed out into the wide hall and had reached the head of the beautiful carved staircase when they saw a dim form coming toward them.
Esther nearly shrieked aloud, but Betty put a hand over her mouth in time.
"Who—who, who-o-o are you?" stammered Betty, her heart beating so fast it was painful.
"Betty!" Bob stifled a gasp. "For the love of Mike! what are you doing at this time of night?"
"Esther's here—we're hunting for Libbie," whispered Betty. "She isn't in her room."
"So that's it!" For some reason unknown to the girls Bob seemed to be vastly relieved. "I was just going after Mr. Littell," he added.
"But Libbie is lost! Maybe she is sick," urged Betty.
"She's all right," declared Bob confidently. "You see, I couldn't go to sleep, and after I'd been in bed about an hour I got up and sat by the window. I was staring down into the garden, and all of a sudden I saw something white begin to move and creep about. I watched it a few moments and I got the idea it was a burglar or a sneak thief, it kept so close to the house. I came down to call Mr. Littell and bumped into you."
"Do you suppose it is Libbie?" chattered Esther. "Why would she go into the garden in the middle of the night?"
"Walking in her sleep," explained Bob. "I've heard it is dangerous to waken a sleep-walker suddenly. Perhaps you'd better call Mrs. Littell, Betty, and I'll sit here on the window seat and see that she doesn't walk out into the road."
The two girls hurried off and tapped lightly on Mrs. Littell's door. That lady hurriedly admitted them, her motherly mind instantly picturing something wrong.
"It's Libbie," said Betty softly. "Bob saw her from his window in the garden and he thinks she's walking in her sleep. We don't want to frighten her. What can we do?"
"I'll be right out," said Mrs. Littell reassuringly. "Libbie's mother used to walk in her sleep, too. I think I can get the child into bed without waking her at all."
In a few moments she came out, a heavy corduroy robe and slippers protecting her against the night air.
"Esther, lamb, you stay here in the hall with Bob," she directed her youngest daughter. "You won't be afraid with Bob, will you, dear? I don't want too many to go down or we may startle Libbie."
Betty crept downstairs after Mrs. Littell, the soft, thick rugs making their progress absolutely noiseless. Not a step in the well-built staircase creaked.
They found the chain and bolt drawn from the heavy front door. Libbie had evidently let herself out with no difficulty. From the wide hall window Bob and Esther watched breathlessly.
"Just go up to her quietly and take one of her hands," Mrs. Littell whispered to Betty. "I'll take the other, and, if I'm not mistaken, we can lead her into the house."
Libbie stood motionless beside a rosebush as they approached her. Her eyes were wide open, and her dark hair floated over her shoulders. In her white nightdress, the moonlight full upon her, she looked very pretty and yet so weird that Betty could not repress a shiver.
Mrs. Littell did not speak, but took one of the limp hands In hers, and Betty took the other. Libbie made no resistance, and allowed them to draw her toward the house. They crossed the threshold, led her upstairs, past the quivering Esther and Bob huddled on the windowseat, and into the bedroom she had so unceremoniously left.
Then Mrs. Littell lifted her in strong arms, put her gently down on the bed, and Libbie rolled up like a little kitten, tucked one hand under her cheek and continued to sleep.
"Now go to bed, children, do," commanded Mrs. Littell. "Bob, I'm so thankful you saw that child—she might have wandered off or caught a severe cold. As it is, I don't believe she has been out very long. What's the matter, Esther?"
"Can I come and sleep with you?" pleaded Esther. "I'm afraid to sleep with Libbie. She might do it again."
"I don't think so—not to-night," said her mother, smiling. "However, chicken, come and sleep with me if you'll rest better."
Betty awoke and went in later that night to see if Libbie had vanished again, but found her sleeping normally. In the morning the girl was much surprised to find she had been wandering in the garden and betrayed considerable interest in the details. Betty decided that it would be better to omit Esther's belief that she had eloped, and Libbie was allowed to remain in blissful ignorance of the action her youthful cousin attributed to her.
The last day sped by all too soon, and what the Tucker twins persisted in pessimistically designating the "fateful Thursday" was upon them.
"I don't know why you sigh so frequently," dimpled Betty, who sat next to Tommy Tucker at the breakfast table. "I'm very anxious to go to school. Don't you really like to go back?"
"It's like this," said Tommy, the "dark Tucker twin," solemnly. "From four to ten p.m. (except on drill nights) I like it well enough, and from ten, lights out, till six, reveille, I'm fairly contented. But from nine to four, when we're cooped up in classrooms, I simply detest school!"
Teddy, the "light Tucker twin," nodded in confirmation.
"I suppose we have to be educated," he admitted, with the air of one making a generous concession to public opinion, "but I don't see why they find it necessary to prolong the agony. Any one who can read and write can make a living."
"Perhaps your father hopes you'll do a bit more than that," suggested Mr. Littell slyly.
This effectually silenced the twins, for their wealthy father was a splendid scientist who had made several explorations that had contributed materially to the knowledge of the scientific world, and he had lost the sight of one eye in a laboratory experiment undertaken to advance the cause for which he labored.
The Littell car carried the twelve to the station soon after breakfast, and though Shadyside and Salsette, unlike many of the large northern schools, ran no "special," the few passengers who were not school bound found themselves decidedly in the minority on the "9:36 local" that morning.
"Remember, Betty, you and Bob are to spend the holidays with us," said Mrs. Littell, as she kissed her good-bye. "If your uncle comes down from Canada, he must come, too."
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor, who foresaw a lively trip. "No'm, you can't go through the gate—nobody can."
The crowd of fathers and mothers and younger brothers and sisters pressed close to the iron grating as the train got under way. On the back platform the Tucker twins raised their voices in a school yell that would have horrified the dignified heads of the Academy had they been there to hear it.