The Daring Twins

Judith had engaged a three-seated wagon to convey the Darings and herself. With all the talk about the race not a word had been said to Sue about her going to Bayport with them. Silently the “outcast” listened to the plans for the excursion, believing she was destined to remain at home. She had a great longing to go, for such diversions were few in their quiet lives, but by her own act she had withdrawn from the inner circle and with stolid resolve she determined none should guess her disappointment or remorse.

There was an early dinner this Saturday noon, and when the wagon drew up at the door and the Darings were hurrying to get their hats and wraps, Cousin Judith said to Sue, who sat soberly in a corner:

“Won’t you go with us, dear? There is plenty of room.”

Sue gave a gasp of amazement.

“But, I – I’m out of it, you know, Cousin Judith. I – I’m not one of your children,” she stammered.

“Come as my guest, then. Do you suppose I have ceased to love you, Sue? I’m not your Little Mother any more – more’s the pity – but I shall always remain your affectionate Cousin Judith. It would please me to have you come with us to-day, and enjoy yourself.”

Sue’s eyes were sparkling. Without a word, except a murmured “thank you, Cousin Judith!” she rushed for her hat and joined the others in the wagon.

It was a great day for the Darings and proved a delightful outing, although alas, the Riverdale crew went down to defeat.

An accident caused it, of course; otherwise, the race was surely Riverdale’s.

Phil led his crew over the course with masterful generalship, starting with slow, steady strokes, without regard for the lead of Bayport, and then gradually increasing the count until near the end Riverdale overtook their opponents and shot irresistibly into the lead. They were two boat lengths ahead and still gaining when one of the new men “caught a crab” and threw the entire crew into confusion. The scull swung half around and before headway could be recovered Bayport passed them and won the race.

Riverdale people had been lustily cheering when they saw their boat surely forging to the front and a certain winner, as they thought; but now a groan of dismay went up that was drowned by the cheers of the exultant Bayporters.

Phœbe was nearly ready to cry, while Becky and Don were savage with grief.

“Never mind, my dears,” said Cousin Judith, cheerfully. “There is no dishonor in such a defeat and Phil certainly did his part splendidly.”

That was the general verdict, and Riverdale spectators crowded around Phil and congratulated him on the fine showing he had made.

In a shiny top-buggy Eric Spaythe had sat beside Marion Randolph, at a point overlooking the entire river. He had proved very agreeable company up to the finish of the race, laughing and joking in his cheery way and assuring Marion time and again that Riverdale was sure to win. At the final catastrophe he seemed overcome by horror. His eyes bulged; his lips trembled; he fell silent and moody.

“Come; let’s get home!” he suddenly exclaimed, and without awaiting reply he whipped up the nag and dashed away at a break-neck speed that made everyone who saw him wonder what was the matter. Marion, greatly annoyed by this churlish proceeding on the part of her escort, refused to make any comment. Eric scarcely spoke a pleasant word to her all the way back to Riverdale. However, as they drove up the street to her house he suddenly seemed to remember that he had acted like a boor and said apologetically:

“Don’t think me rude, please. My whole heart was set on Riverdale winning that race, and I guess my disappointment made me forget myself. You won’t bear any grudge against me, will you?” he continued, a little anxiously.

“Most certainly not,” answered Marion coldly. “I thank you for the courtesy shown me – before you forgot yourself.”

Then she hurried into the house, leaving Eric staring agape and wondering if he had made a fool of himself and lost more than his bets on the race.

Cousin Judith did not hurry her brood home, for it was still early. She carried the Darings to a cool little restaurant where they feasted on ice cream and cakes to their hearts’ content and soon forgot the humiliation of their brother’s defeat.

Judith placed little Sue by her side and saw she was as liberally served as the others. The girl was unusually silent, however, and once Miss Eliot noticed that her dark eyes were flooded with tears.

On her way home Sue laid her head on the Little Mother’s lap and began to sob, gently at first but with increasing bitterness, while her brothers and sisters regarded her with unfeigned amazement.

Judith stroked the soft hair and let the burst of grief exhaust itself.

“You – you’ve been so kind to me,” whispered Sue, raising her tear-stained face to look appealingly into the gentle countenance above her, “that I – I – I’m drea’fully ’shamed of myself! Don’t you s’pose you – could – adopt me again?”

“I think so,” said the Little Mother gravely.

The clouds cleared then and Sue was presently smiling again. As soon as they reached home she marched directly over to the Randolph mansion and found Doris. When she returned she said shyly, in the presence of the entire family:

“I’ve ’pologized to Doris an’ told her she isn’t a hypocrite; and I’m sorry – drea’fully sorry – I disobeyed Cousin Judith and acted so naughty.”

“Good for you, Puss!” cried Phil, who had just come in. “Why, this consoles me for the loss of the race!”

Sue beamed with pleasure and Judith gathered the girl in her arms and kissed her.

“I call you all to witness,” she said, “that this is the child of my adoption. We won’t need to sign papers this time, because you will all know that Sue and I belong to each other hereafter and can never be divorced. Is it not so, my dear?”

“Yes, indeed, Little Mother!” replied Sue, smiling happily.

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE TOILS

When Eric and Phil met at their desks on Monday morning the banker’s son was “savage as a meat-ax.” He scowled and muttered over his work and slammed the big books here and there as if he owed them a grudge.

Phil paid no attention to this exhibition of temper, which he believed due to the failure of Riverdale to win the boat race. He knew that Eric had been betting heavily with his cronies and the Bayport people, and since the young man was already deeply in debt these added losses might affect him, seriously. So Phil devoted himself quietly to work and let Eric rave.

Gradually the young fellow quieted down. He was in no mood for work that day, and paid little attention to the books. But he smoked so many cigarettes, one after another, that the air was blue, and Mr. Boothe left his coop long enough to request Eric to desist from choking him with the offensive fumes.

“I am not well,” added the cashier; “so I ask you to be considerate.”

Eric tossed his cigarette away and Mr. Boothe returned to his coop.

“Phil,” said Eric, abruptly, “do you know where I can borrow some money?”

“Perhaps your father will let you have it,” was the reply.

“The gov’nor! Never. He’d haul me over the coals if he knew I was hard up on my princely salary of eighteen a week.”

Phil made no comment. Said Eric, after a period of thought:

“I’m told the loan-sharks in St. Louis will advance a fellow money on his prospects. I wonder if they’d help me out of this hole. I’m the only son of a well-to-do banker, and will inherit a respectable lump of money, some day. Do you suppose they’d help me, Phil?”

“I don’t know, Eric. Such money lenders would be sure to demand a heavy interest.”

“That’s all right. It’s worth something to get my fist on the money when I want it.”

“What is it for?” asked Daring. “Why do you need this money?”

“To pay some of those infernal debts.”

“How much better off will you be afterward, Eric? Wouldn’t you contract more debts right away?”

“That’s my business,” growled the other. “Don’t you begin preaching to me, Phil Daring, for I won’t stand for it,” he added, glaring angrily at his fellow clerk.

Phil said no more, but he was sad and ill at ease. Eric was no longer the genial, winning fellow of former days. Since he had begun to spend money so recklessly and to run into debt, his character and disposition seemed to have altered for the worse. The thing Phil dreaded more than anything else was another raid on the bank money, with more of those audacious false records to cover up the defalcations. He was helpless to interfere, but none the less was he sincerely sorry for both Eric and his father, knowing that exposure was bound to follow sooner or later.