CHAPTER XVII

A LARK IN PROSPECT

Dr. Beulah Prescott herself heard of the chums' adventure and called Nan and Bess into her office before bedtime.

"What is all this I hear about your trying to cross Lake Huron in an open boat?" asked the principal, lightly.

But she looked grave enough before Nan had finished her true and particular narrative of the incident. Dr. Prescott did not scold the chums, as Mrs. Cupp certainly would have done. But she went much more thoroughly into the affair than the matron could, or would.

She sent for Henry, the boatkeeper, and that rather careless individual learned that he was expected to have a closer oversight over the use of the boats by the girls at all times; and especially was he to watch the weather signals which were flown from the pole at the life-saving station on Lighthouse Point.

Nan said nothing to the principal of the school about the person she and Bess had seen prowling about the boathouse. She thought that for once probably Henry had enough trouble!

When Grace Mason got back to the Hall at nine o'clock, she was also called in to see "Dr. Beulah," as most of the girls affectionately called the preceptress. But Linda was not called upon to give her version of the adventure at all.

Later the preceptress wrote a very nice letter to Walter Mason's father, commending his son for the bravery and good sense he had shown in saving the girl canoeists. Nan, and Bess, and even Grace, were made a good deal of by the other girls because of the adventure. And every time Walter Mason came to see his sister, Grace asked permission for Nan and Bess to meet him, too. In this way the chums from Tillbury got many an automobile ride and boat ride that they would not otherwise have enjoyed.

Because of this new association of Nan and Bess with Grace and her brother, Linda Riggs' tongue dripped venom, not honey. The rich girl had gathered around her a coterie of girls like Cora Courtney and Mabel Schiff, and they echoed Linda's ill-natured remarks and ridiculous stories. The great number of the older girls at Lakeview Hall, as Nan had very sensibly said, paid no attention whatsoever to the ill-natured talk of Linda Riggs' clique. As for those girls smaller and younger than Nan and Bess (and there were many of them) they were little interested in the controversy.

Of course, right at the beginning of her school life at Lakeview Hall, Nan Sherwood had made friends with the little girls. They all soon learned that Nan was sympathetic, could enter into their play with perfect equality, was glad to help them in their lessons, and altogether filled the part of "Big Sister" to perfection.

Bess did not care so much for children. Perhaps it was because she had some bothersome small brothers and sisters at home. Nan, who was an only child, had always longed for a brother or sister. Although she could not remember him, the tiny brother who had lived a short few weeks at the "little dwelling in amity," and then had gone away forever, was much in Nan Sherwood's thoughts.

"It gets me," Bess sputtered once to her chum, "how you can actually play dolls with those primary kids--a big girl like you."

"I like dolls," said Nan, placidly.

"Huh! I believe you do," cried Bess. "I wonder you don't litter up our room with 'em--and doll clothes and baby carriages and cradles," and Bess laughed gaily, with no idea of how close she had come to touching upon Nan's secret.

Dr. Prescott did not make the chums pay for the lost canoe, so Nan, relieved of the necessity for doing so, decided not to tell her father and mother about the canoe accident, as she knew they would worry needlessly. Nor did careless Bess tell her parents. Bess had a strong personal reason for keeping the adventure a secret. She did not want to put any obstacle in the way of the purchase of the boat she was teasing for.

Nan was writing long and enthusiastic letters to Scotland. In return she received from both "Momsey" and "Papa Sherwood" most encouraging reports of the progress of the court proceedings over Mr. Hughie Blake's will, under the terms of which Mrs. Sherwood was to receive considerable wealth. It seemed that the controversy was practically finished, and Nan's parents would soon be coming home. In one of these letters, received early in the school year, Nan found a five pound note "to do just what she pleased with."

"Oh! what'll you do with so much money?" gasped Bess. "And all in a bunch. Twenty-five dollars! Why, Nan, your father must be richer than mine!"

"They know I haven't had much heretofore to spend extravagantly," responded Nan, her eyes twinkling, "while you have been extravagant all your life."

"Well! My father never gives me such a sum all at once for spending money. But you're so cautious, Nan. Ugh! 'sensible!' I hate that word!"

"So do I dislike it," said Nan, briskly. "I don't think I am any more sensible than other girls--unless I'm more so than you, Bess," and she laughed at her chum.

"Well! what will you do with your money?" asked Bess. "That will tell the story."

"I--don't know."

"Have a regular big junket."

"What? Treat the whole school to ice-cream?" laughed Nan.

"Ho! ice-cream melts too fast. It's all over too soon," returned Bess, with a frown.

"Buy lollypops, then--or jaw-breakers? They last longer."

"Say! this is no time to joke. It's serious," declared Bess, putting her mind to the matter of the disbursement of her chum's windfall.

"All right," agreed Nan. "The Committee on Entertainment will now go into executive session. What's your idea, Elizabeth, about buying every one of the two hundred girls at Lakeview Hall a twelve-and-a-half cent rubber doll?"

"Doll? Pah! your mind runs on dolls, Nan Sherwood. You are certainly getting into your second childhood," said Bess, with disgust.

"Perhaps," admitted Nan.

"Do let's be serious," Bess begged again. "What is the most popular thing among the girls?"

"Those new side-combs!" exclaimed Nan.

"Yes--and I'm going to have a pair just as soon as mother sends me my next spending money."

"I'll buy you a pair," said generous Nan, quickly.

"No, you won't, silly! I'll not let you fritter away any of that perfectly splendid five pound note in foolishness."

"Oh!" responded Nan, drily, much amused to hear Bess Harley so very practical.

The practicality of the discussion might be doubted by anybody save boarding-school girls. Bess quickly proved to her own satisfaction, if not entirely to Nan's, that the small, "after-hours supper" was the most popular form of entertainment then in vogue at Lakeview Hall.

"You know, Cora Courtney and that crowd are always talking about a strawberry festival that she and Linda Riggs engineered last June. And now they are planning to have another big spread soon in some room on their corridor."

"Well," observed Nan, "we won't be invited to it."

"No. And they won't be invited to ours," cried Bess, promptly.

"If we have a spread," agreed Nan.

"It's just the thing," Bess pursued, very enthusiastic. "Eating promotes fellowship----"

"And indigestion," laughed Nan. "Especially such a combination as Laura had in her room the other night--sour pickles, ice-cream cones, and salted peanuts."

"Whew! that was fierce!" acknowledged Bess. "I didn't eat much; but I felt squirmy, just the same, after it. But if we give the girls the big eats, let's have something nice, but digestible."

"Let's!" agreed Nan. "Of course, it's against the rules----"

"Oh, dear, now! don't begin that," begged Bess.

"We--ell----"

"They all do it. If Dr. Beulah wasn't so awfully strict about our having what she calls a 'plain, wholesome supper,' and refusing to let us add sweets, and the like, to the supper bill-of-fare, I'm sure the girls wouldn't be dying for these spreads."

"If the girls had what they wanted at supper, Dr. Prescott would have to charge about twice what she does now for tuition and board at Lakeview Hall."

"Never mind that," said Bess, briskly. "The question is: Shall we have the spread?"

"If you like," agreed Nan.

So it was decided. With twenty-five dollars they could have a bountiful feast.

"A dollar a plate will give us a delightful supper, with salad, and ices, and all," said Bess, who knew more about such things than Nan, for her mother entertained a great deal in Tillbury.

"But how'll we ever get such things up to our room?" gasped Nan.

That puzzled Bess.

"And twenty-five girls would just about swamp us," Nan added.

"Oh, dear!"

"Hire a hall?" suggested Nan, roguishly.

"Now, don't, Nan Sherwood! You're dreadful!" cried Bess, almost in tears as she saw her castle in the air dissolving.

"Wait!" commanded Nan, good-naturedly patting her chum on the shoulder. "All is not yet lost! Up and at 'em, guards! Never say die!"

"I'd just set my heart on the biggest kind of a spread," mourned Bess. "I wanted anything Cora, and Linda, and Mabel, and that set did, to look like a punctured jitney."

"Oh, Bess! what language!"

"We--ell."

"Now let me think," said Nan, seriously.

"Think what?"

"Thoughts, of course, goosey!" laughed Nan. "Wait! First we must plan to have the spread in a sufficiently roomy place."

"But it's got to be in the Hall," cried Bess.

"Or near it," suggested Nan.

"What do you mean?"

"Listen!" commanded Nan, dramatically. "I have thought of just the place. We can get the goodies brought around from the caterer in Freeling, in a boat, and nobody'll be the wiser."

"But where--what?" demanded Bess.

So Nan told her.