Chapter XVII

RETURN

“For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she’s a jolly good fellow——” the Adventure Girls sang loudly if not well.

“And a hot cha cha!” Janet put in lavishly.

“That doesn’t fit,” Carol complained.

“I don’t care whether it does or not,” Janet said irrelevantly. “I’m happy and I don’t care who knows it.”

“What is the reason?” Carol inquired suspiciously.

“Gale’s return,” Janet said promptly, a little too promptly.

The young people were gathered in the living room of the Howard home. All the Adventure Girls were present. Gale had been back one week now but they never refused any opportunity to have any sort of gala occasion in honor of her return. There had been little gatherings and parties ever since the plane that brought her back had landed at the Marchton airport. Tonight, however, was devoted strictly to only the Adventure Girls. They had demanded one night for their very own.

Now they all cocked a suspicious eye in Janet’s direction to seek the cause of her extra-exuberant spirits. That young lady was deeply involved in looking through the music on the piano. They had sung nearly every piece there, but Janet was still seeking another to which to devote their talents.

“See here,” Carol turned Janet squarely about, “confess all! What has happened to you? You were in a glow all through English class this afternoon and anything that can make you glow in that class is colossal.”

“Is that so?” Janet scoffed.

“Is it a secret?” Madge asked hopefully from her position on the arm of Phyllis’ chair, idly strumming her ukulele.

“Aren’t we your bestest pals? Don’t we tell you everything?” Carol insisted. “Come on, Janet, what is it all about?”

Janet bent intently over a pile of music. “If you must know, Mark Sherwin has asked me to the Senior Prom.”

“No!”

“Whoopee! He asks far enough ahead of time.”

“No wonder you were all smiles!” Carol declared. “So that is it! Your hero!”

“He isn’t,” Janet said shortly. “He’s nice, he has ambition,” she added loftily.

“Happy days are here again,” Carol said, whirling Janet around the room.

“Be quiet,” Janet complained. “You’re jealous,” she accused.

“Where is the dance to be held?” Phyllis wanted to know.

“At the Country Club,” Valerie put in. “I’m on the dance committee.”

“You are!” Madge echoed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Valerie laughed. “I didn’t know it myself until this afternoon. I had almost forgotten it. Who are you going with, Phyl?”

“If I can go,” Phyllis said ruefully, “if my Aunt will let me, David wants to take me, but I don’t know.”

“She still insists on keeping you out of Briarhurst?” Gale asked.

Phyllis nodded vigorously. “I suppose I shall go to Stonecliff and wear a horrid uniform.”

“We must do something about that,” Janet said. “We won’t be separated, Aunt or no Aunt!”

Phyllis laughed but she didn’t look as though she believed they could do anything. She knew her Aunt better than any of them.

“Who is taking you to the prom, Gale?”

“I——”

“I’ll bet she can’t make up her mind,” teased Janet. “Which is it, Gale? Bruce or Brent?”

“It is a secret,” Gale said promptly. “You shan’t any of you know until you see me there.”

“Ah, that isn’t fair!” the others complained.

“But it will give you something to look forward to,” Gale laughed.

To tell the truth she didn’t know. Bruce might ask her. He usually took her to the school dances but she—she wanted to ask Brent but she was a little afraid. Afraid he would refuse and then she would be hurt. She hadn’t seen much of him since her return to Marchton. He had gone to Washington the day after and had not yet returned; if, she added to herself, he intended to return.

When the others teased her she remained silent. A mysterious smile was all the reply she would give them.

The girls gave no thought to the classes they would have tomorrow while they were enjoying themselves and it was late when they finally bid Gale a sleepy good night. After a little straightening up Gale crept away to her own room but not to sleep. She brought out her books and tackled the lessons which she found difficult. During her absence the classwork had gone forward and now she was hard pressed to make up for lost time.

Soon, however, the pencil dropped from her fingers and she stared out the window to where the winter moon floated easily through the clouds. She thought of Antoinette and sighed. It had been very hard to part from the French friends she had made. She missed the three in the little Canadian cottage more than anyone knew. Especially she missed the sweet friendly presence of the girl and her romps with Toto. She missed the cold nights in the bright moonlight when she had tramped in the snow. Here she could not go out walking when she felt like it. Her parents and friends would think her insane if she should go for a walk late at night. There would never be the same freedom here that there had been in Canada for that short time.

Gale yawned and closed her history book. She could not cram another sentence into her head tonight. Her eyes burned and felt heavy. She took deep breaths of the cool air that drifted in the window but she did not feel refreshed.

Upon a sudden decision she took her woolly coat from her closet and on tiptoe crept into the hall and down the stairs. At every creak of the steps she held her breath lest her Mother call her. She didn’t propose to do anything wrong, but she felt she must get away from the house, away from the books and studies that were becoming more and more difficult, from the worry of her examinations which was beginning to have a smothering effect on her.

Dry leaves rustled beneath her feet as she went down the path to the street. There she turned in the direction of the bay. At the tiny wharf she seated herself on a deserted soap box and gazed out over the gentle swell of waves. A huge blot in the darkness was the island. Beyond that lashed the heavy ocean waves. She could hear the roar of the surf even at this distance. She sniffed appreciatively and felt the spell of depression that had enveloped her lifting.

Suddenly she heard a sound in the stillness. It was a footfall and quite abruptly a man was outlined against the line of water and sky as he stood at the opposite end of the wharf from her. His figure was a mere blot, indistinguishable. He carried a huge bag or box, Gale could not determine which in the indistinct light. As she watched he set this down at his feet and took a few steps along the edge, peering over into the water.

Gale, in order to have a better point of vision, dropped from the wharf into the rear seat of Bruce’s motor boat. She pulled a huge piece of canvas over her and lay still, watching the shadow up above her through a slit in the canvas. It had come to her suddenly that she had been quite mad to come down to the shore at this hour. Burglars, smugglers, anyone might be here. Even though she had never heard much of such desperate characters in Marchton now, with the stranger standing ominously in the shadows, her imagination pictured all sorts of crimes.

Footsteps approached and Gale hastily drew the canvas more fully over her. A thud, and the boat rocked as another person took his position up in the front at the wheel. A few minutes later and after several false attempts, the motor broke into a roar that shattered the stillness of the night like a roll of thunder.

Gale peered out and thought of making a wild dash for the safety of the wharf but it was already too late. The shore was being rapidly left behind. She glanced up at the prow. The man was leaning over, getting every ounce of speed from the engine that was possible. Again Gale mentally scolded herself for the foolhardy thing she had done. She should never have come to the wharf; but in the second place, and now more important, she should never have gotten into the boat. She was an unwilling passenger of a strange pilot on a still stranger cruise.

At first she had thought the boat was headed out for the open sea but, by discreetly raising her head for a glimpse into the darkness ahead, she saw the pilot was heading straight for the island. What could he want there? Gale had not been there since the day Brent left. It was deserted as far as she knew. The club house which Brent had occupied during his stay there was boarded up for the winter. What could he want?

The boat veered off sharply and chugged onto the shore. The prow grated on the pebbly sand and Gale kept herself hidden until she was sure the pilot had jumped clear and started up the beach. Then she raised herself and looked after him. The dark figure was striding up toward the club house.

Gale stood up and after some difficulty negotiated her way up to the prow of the boat from where she could jump onto the sand. The water lapped her shoes as she darted away from the boat and sprang up the beach, keeping in the shadows out of sight of the stranger. She must see what he was about. Her curiosity was aroused and a feverish interest to keep the strange man and his doings in sight gripped her.

The figure ahead of her had approached the club house. He was working with the door and she saw it give beneath his weight. A second later he disappeared into the darkness within. She waited until a faint glimmer of light came from between the boards on the windows and from beneath the door. Then she crept forward. It was impossible to see into the room between the boards and she was puzzled. She must find out what he was doing in there! Cautiously she moved to the door. It was not latched, merely pushed to a thin crack. Gently she began to move it open far enough for her to see into the interior.

To the man inside the little club house, the slowly moving door was sinister and threatening. Not a sound came to his ears; that is, no human sound. He could hear the lapping of the water on the shore, could hear the swish of a tree branch on the roof, but there was no indication of another’s presence on the other side of the door.

He grasped a stout piece of wood which had originally been intended for a fire log and advanced slowly. About five paces from the threshold he halted and waited. The door had stopped moving. He could see nothing but he sensed someone standing there, listening. Cautiously he stretched out his hand and gave the door a sudden jerk inward. A girlish figure was precipitated into the room at his feet.

“Oh!” Gale almost shrieked as a brown hand seized her own. Her heart raced with terror until she saw his face.

“Brent!”

“Gale!”

The man flung aside his bit of firewood and helped her to her feet.

“You were almost crowned,” he declared laughing. “I thought a ghost of an ancient pirate had risen to confront me.”

“And I thought you were a smuggler or something!” Gale admitted laughingly. “I was going to protect our club house from any of your nefarious schemes.”

“How did you get on the island?” he asked.

“I rode over in the boat—with you,” she explained and smiled at his mystification. “I was hiding under the canvas in the stern.”

“Suppose I had been a burglar or something,” he admonished. “You would be in a fine mess.”

“But I’m glad you aren’t,” she said. She swung herself up onto the table and swung her legs out before her, regarding him with serious eyes. “But what are you doing here at this hour?”

“Lady, you see a recently returned traveler seeking some place to lay his weary head.”

“You came back to Marchton tonight?” she murmured. “Why didn’t you come to our house?”

“It was too late to barge in upon anybody. I had the brilliant thought of your club house and decided I would like to spend a night here again. So here I am,” he finished.

“It is boarded up for the winter,” Gale said with a distasteful glance around her at the dust and shuttered windows. “It isn’t very pleasant now.”

“Never mind about me,” he declared. “Young lady, you explain what you mean by running around at this hour of the night alone? You should be in bed and asleep.”

Gale grimaced wryly. “I wasn’t sleepy and I felt like walking.”

He swung her down from the table. “Come along, I’ll take you home.”

“But you aren’t coming back here, are you?” she protested when she saw he had left his traveling bag behind them in the club house.

“For tonight,” he said.

“But—but it is so cold and damp and—dangerous.”

He laughed. “Nonsense. I want to—I want to think about something and this is a fine place for it. Tomorrow I’m going to the Ayres Hotel.”

Gale let her protests subside. For the ride over to the mainland she was mostly silent. It was not until they stood at the gate to the Howard yard that she asked the question that had been bothering her.

“Are you going to be in Marchton long?” she asked.

“Not so very long,” he answered. “You see, Gale, I’ve been offered a position with the Transcontinental Air Line Company. It—it’s the chance I’ve been waiting for.”

“I’m glad,” Gale said, even though in her heart she felt she wasn’t glad because then she wouldn’t see him very often. “You will live in Washington?” she heard herself asking.

“Yes.” It seemed as though he wanted to say something else but decided not to. Instead he murmured, “Good night.”

But Gale stopped him. “Brent, I’d like to ask you—that is would you mind—I mean, will you go to the Senior Prom with me?” Her words seemed loud and brazen to her own ears. She couldn’t see him very well in the shadows but she had the horrified notion he was laughing at her. And what man in his position wouldn’t laugh? Not that he was so much older than she—he couldn’t be more than twenty-three and she was almost nineteen. It was just that she should have the cheek to ask him! She felt like crying, “Don’t pay any attention to me. I know you won’t go. I shouldn’t have asked,” when as if in a dream she heard him saying—

“That will be great, Gale. When is it?”

As Gale ran the short distance to the house she felt as though she were treading on air. Her heart was soaring with ecstasy. It was a small matter to creep upstairs, undress and get into bed without making a sound. Once in bed she could give herself up utterly to dreams of that gala night to come.