CHAPTER XI

Sim

Miles away from Cedar Ridge, Sim Westover idly turned the pages of a movie magazine. She was quite pleased with herself as she sat in a commuters' train, speeding toward Larchmont. It was dark now, and as Sim looked from the window her face was reflected in the glass as in a dull mirror. Just a hint of a shiny nose, but it was enough to cause her to open her envelope bag and search for her compact.

But what were those white envelopes?

Surely she hadn't forgotten to leave that carefully composed note for the dean--and the one to Arden and Terry!

Yes, she had forgotten!

"My word! They'll be worried to death!" Sim whispered in a gasp of dismay. "What a stupid thing to do! Write notes explaining everything and then take them with me!"

Sim settled herself deeper into the soft green plush of the seat and looked helplessly at the envelopes bearing the imposing red and gold seal of the Chancellor Hotel. She could imagine Terry and Arden dashing madly about asking everywhere for her. And she had intended to leave the note right where they would see it--on the bed near her packed bag.

"Oh," mused Sim, "if only they don't do anything rash, such as notifying the police or phoning to my folks!"

The adventure she had planned to be such a fine thing was fast losing its savor.

Suppose her father was not in Larchmont, after all? But he must be. In his last letter to Sim he had mentioned, casually, this trip which was a reason why he couldn't be in New York to greet her at the tea dance. He would be in Larchmont.

It had seemed such a fine idea, when Sim learned the sophomores had not made the amount of money necessary even to start the repairs on the swimming pool, just to go to her father and ask him for it. It would be such a fine thing for the college, and Sim really must do some swimming. She felt that she was entitled to it after coming to Cedar Ridge, having seen the pictures of the pool in the prospectus.

The others were dancing as Sim's grand idea was engendered within her, and it seemed too bad to interrupt them. Besides, Arden would, very probably, try to stop her. The simplest thing would be just to write the notes, explaining, and go ahead.

The desk clerk at the hotel told her, when she asked, that she had fifteen minutes to get a train for Larchmont from the Grand Central Station. Sim was so glad she had remembered her father had written he was to be there for the week-end at the Newman home--planning another large branch store for business expansion.

"Oh, dear! What a fix to be in! I suppose I'll be expelled! Mother will feel terribly bad, and Dad----Oh, dear!" Sim sighed aloud.

But there was nothing she could do now. There were the forgotten letters which would have made everything all right. She had hurried up to the room, slipping away from the dance, had written the notes, put them in her bag, and changed her dress. She intended leaving them just before going out of the room. But a glance at the electric clock showed her there was little time to catch a taxi for the Grand Central in time to make the train, and in her haste----

The train ran along smoothly. The clickety-click of the wheels over the rail joints mocked Sim with their ever recurring:

"Forgot! Forgot! Forgot!"

She grew more upset and worried. She pulled back her coat sleeve and glanced at her wrist watch.

Nine o'clock!

By this time the girls would be taking the train for Morrisville. What had they done about her disappearance? Sim hated to think about it. This was, indeed, the deepest hole she had ever been in.

The conductor opened the door and shouted:

"Larch-_mont_! _Larch_-mont! All out for LARCH-MONT!"

Sim gathered her things together and prepared to leave.

As she alighted from the train, the thought came to her that she must at once go in the station and telephone Arden. But another glance at her watch caused her to hesitate. Arden and Sim might not be in Cedar Ridge yet. So she decided to wait until she reached the house of her father's friend and to telephone from there.

She approached a taxi and gave the address to the driver. The ride was not long, and soon was on the steps waiting to be admitted at the Newman house.

It was Mr. Newman himself who opened the door.

"Why, Sim Westover!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? We thought you were safely in bed at Cedar Ridge. But come in! Take off your things!"

"Good-evening, Mr. Newman," Sim said quickly. "I should be at Cedar Ridge, but something very important came up, and I decided, in a hurry, to come up here to see Dad. I was in New York at a dance. Dad is here, isn't he?"

"Why, no, Sim, he isn't. He telephoned me, late this afternoon, that he couldn't make it after all. Is anything the matter?"

Sim's face was a study in many expressions as she faintly replied:

"Yes, I guess there is--now. Everything would have been all right if I hadn't been so forgetful!" Sim was close to tears, and the sight of her mother's dear college friend (both ladies had graduated at Cedar Ridge) caused Sim almost to break down.

"Come in, Sim!" greeted Mrs. Newman, sensing, as she hastened into the hall, that something was wrong. "Have you had anything to eat? I thought not. Come into the dining room. Marie can get you some tea and sandwiches, at least. Then you can tell us all about it while you eat, and you'll feel better. It isn't serious, is it?" This last prompted by a look at Sim's face.

"Well, it isn't going to be very pleasant, I'm afraid." On the way to and in the dining room, while a hasty lunch was made ready, Sim blurted out the whole story.

"And so you see," she finished, "I must get word to Arden or Terry as quickly as possible, and it must be managed so that I'm not found out as missing or I shall probably be expelled. I'm away without leave. I must get back tonight."

"Go back tonight? Impossible, my dear! Can't you stay with us until morning?"

"I think not. If I can slip back all may yet be well. But if I have to explain to the dean----No, it couldn't be done. There must be a train back tonight, isn't there?"

She turned questioning eyes on Mr. Newman.

He looked at some time-tables, of which he had several in his smoking room, and announced:

"You'd never get back until late--very late--by train. But if you feel you must be back in college before morning----"

"I do. Oh, yes, I do, Mr. Newman!"

"Then the only thing is for me to drive you there. We can make good time at night. I know the roads."

"Oh, Mr. Newman! I couldn't dream of----"

"Tut, tut, Sim! It's the only way. I don't mind. It will be a little diversion for me. I'll have the chauffeur get the car out now. He can do the driving. I'll sit and talk to you, and the way won't seem so long."

"Oh, Mr. Newman, you're wonderful! Now I must phone Arden at once to be watching for me. Luckily our room is on the front of the dorm. How long do you think it will take?" Sim, getting up from the table, at the session of which she had much improved in spirits, was planning rapidly now. Perhaps all would yet be well.

"About three hours, I should say," Mr. Newman answered. "It will be slow going from here until we get into New Jersey, and then we can make time. You ought to be back _at_ college around midnight, though whether you can get _in_----"

"That's why I must phone Arden or Terry. Oh, what a lot of trouble I'm causing!" Sim's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back.

"There, now, my dear, never mind!" soothed Mrs. Newman. "We'll help you all we can."

"That's the kind of people they are," Sim told Arden, later. "They haven't forgotten what it is to be young."

It took some little time to get a telephone connection through to Cedar Ridge, and Sim lived years in moments, she thought, while waiting for Arden to come to the phone. Finally the voice came to her.

"Hello, Arden? Yes, I'm all right. I'm up at Larchmont with friends of Dad's. Did they find out about me? No? Good! Listen! Here's my plan. I'll tell you all how it happened later. Someone might hear us if I talked too long now. I'm driving back--yes, driving. I'll get there about midnight. Don't fall asleep. When we get to the entrance--the outside gate, I mean--we'll toot the horn three times. You and Terry slip down and let me in. Do you understand? Fine! I'm leaving right away. Good-bye, darling! I'll explain everything later. I'm quite all right, and nothing has happened. Good-bye!"

She hung up and turned to her friends, murmuring:

"That's over, thank goodness!"

"Well, let's get going, Sim!" Mr. Newman was now almost as much excited as was Sim herself.

"Try to sleep on the way out, Sim dear," advised Mrs. Newman. "I'm having robes and a soft cushion put in the car. You can snuggle up in a corner of the sedan."

"I thought she was going to talk to me!" chuckled Mr. Newman.

"Of course I will--if I can find anything to talk about."

"No, you mustn't," decided his wife. "Sim must try to get some sleep. You will, won't you, my dear?"

"Yes, I will. Luckily tomorrow will be Sunday, and I can sleep late in my room--if I get there. Thank you both--so much! I'll never forget this--never!"

Sim put her arms about Mrs. Newman's neck and kissed her affectionately.

"Oh, my poor dear! I know just how you feel. You meant it all for the best, and there is really no harm done."

"Not yet," said Sim a trifle grimly as she followed Mr. Newman out to the big sedan that was waiting, with the chauffeur at the door, on the drive.