The Girls of Central High on Lake Luna: or, The Crew That Won

CHAPTER VI

WHICH IS WHICH?

Mr. Lockwood had a habit of getting out of difficulties in this way. He frequently "washed his hands" of affairs, finding that they adjusted themselves somehow without his aid, after all.

But on this present occasion there was, perhaps, a special reason why he should tell his sister to go ahead, and leave the matter entirely with her and the twins themselves. Aunt Dora claimed to be able to tell the girls apart – something that nobody, not even Mrs. Betsey, had been able to do since they were little tots and Dora had worn a blue ribbon on her wrist, and Dorothy a pink.

The twins, who had heard all the foregoing conversation, and understood the situation thoroughly, advanced when their Aunt Dora turned to meet them.

"Kiss me, my dears," commanded the militant lady, opening her arms. "Dora, first!"

But the twins ran in together and one kissed her on one cheek while the other placed her salute on the other – and at exactly the same moment. Aunt Dora adjusted her eyeglasses, stood off a yard or so, and stared at the girls.

"Dora," she said, solemnly, "you are going home with me."

Neither girls changed color, or showed in the least that the announcement was either a pleasant one, or vice versa.

"Do you hear?" demanded their aunt.

"Yes, ma'am," they replied, in chorus.

"I spoke to Dora," said the lady, firmly.

Not a word said the twins.

"Which is which, Dora?" asked Mr. Lockwood, from the background, and perhaps enjoying his sister's discomfiture. "I declare nobody in this house has been able to tell them apart since they were in their crib. Mrs. Betsey declares she believes they used to exchange ribbons when they were toddlers, for she used to find the bows tied in funny knots."

The two girls looked at each other with dancing eyes, but said nothing. It had been their sport all their lives to mystify people about their several identities. And here was a situation in which they determined – both of them – to keep their aunt guessing.

"This is no matter for flippancy," said Aunt Dora, sternly. "I intend to take my namesake home with me, and to bring her up, educate her, and finally share my fortune with her. Do you understand this fully?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied the twins.

"I am speaking to Dora," their aunt said tartly.

The girls were silent.

"I am separating Dora from her sister for her own good. As you girls grow older you will find that the income your father has remaining will barely support one girl in a proper manner. To divide his responsibility is a kindness to him – "

"That is not so," interjected the mild Mr. Lockwood. "You are more than welcome, girls, to all I have. And – possibly – I might look about and get a little more money for you to use, as time goes on. If you need it – "

"We know all about it, Papa," chimed the twins. "We are satisfied."

"Does that mean you are satisfied to remain here, Dora?" demanded their aunt, insisting upon speaking as though but one girl heard her.

"We are both satisfied," chorused the twins, quickly.

"But I am not satisfied with the affair," declared Aunt Dora. "It has long been both my intention and desire to take my namesake – my godchild – away from here. While you two girls were small it was all very well to declare it cruel to separate you. But you are old enough now – "

"We shall never be old enough, Auntie, to wish to be separated," said one of the twins.

"Nonsense, child!" exclaimed Aunt Dora, her eyes sparkling as she thought she had at last obtained an inkling to the identity of the two girls. "You will soon get over all that, Dora – of course you will."

"I am sure I should not so soon get over separation from my sister," said the other girl.

Her aunt wheeled on this one. "Do you mean to tell me that you scorn my offer?"

"If I were Dora I should beg to be excused," returned the niece to whom she had spoken.

Aunt Dora whirled again and transfixed the other with decided satisfaction and a sparkling eye.

"But Dora, I feel sure, will go with her aunt gladly," cried the lady.

"If I were Dora I should beg to be excused," repeated the girl at whom she looked, in exactly the same tone, and with an unmoved countenance, too.

"I declare!" gasped Aunt Dora, in complete exasperation. "You've managed to get me puzzled, now. Which – which of you is t'other?"

"That is for you to find out, Auntie," said both girls in unison.

"You saucy minxes!" began the lady, but one of the girls said, quickly:

"Oh, no. We don't mean to be saucy. But we have agreed not to tell on the other. Father leaves it to us and to you, Auntie. Neither of us wish to leave our dear, dear home. Therefore we shall not tell you which is Dora, and which is Dorothy."

"That is quite true, Auntie," said the other twin.

"Well, I declare to Nature!" exclaimed their Aunt "Here I come offering Dora everything that a girl of her age should count as worthy – a home of wealth, a better education than she can get here in Centerport – college to follow – the open sesame into society – real society – And do you two girls mean to tell me that neither will say which is Dora?"

"That is exactly what we have agreed upon," said one of the twins, quietly.

"Then, let me tell you, Miss, I shall find out for myself!" exclaimed the angry lady. "I consider you at fault for this, Lemuel. Shows your bringing up. It is sheer impudence!"

"I – I have washed my hands of it, Dora," said her brother, weakly.

"Well, you can wipe 'em, too!" snapped the lady. "But I mean to take Dora home with me when I go back – and that will be very soon," and she whisked away in her rustling skirts, leaving the father and his two daughters alone.

They twined around the little man in a moment, the two winsome, loving girls – one upon one side, the other upon the other.

"You don't want to lose Dora, do you, dear?" demanded Dorothy.

"Nor Dorothy either?" demanded Dora.

"I certainly do not, my dear girls," cried the much harassed Mr. Lockwood.

"Then we shall not tell her. We shall tell nobody. Nobody shall know which is which – as long as Aunt Dora remains, that is sure," cried Dora.

"Exactly," agreed her sister. "As long as papa doesn't wish us to go – ?"

"Never!" declared Mr. Lockwood.

"Why, we're never even going to get married!" ejaculated the other twin.

"Of course not," said her sister. "There couldn't possibly be two men just alike, and they'd have to be just alike to please us for husbands."

Mr. Lockwood laughed. It was the first happy sound he had made in two hours. His sister had arrived exactly two hours before.

"I know I can safely leave the whole affair to you girls," he said, gratefully. "Have it out with your auntie, if you must. But do, do leave me in peace."

CHAPTER VII

HOW TO GET A NEW SHELL

The Lockwood twins were members of the executive committee of the Girls' Branch of Central High and that Saturday an important meeting was to be held in one of the school offices. So Dora and Dorothy stole away after supper, with only a word to Mrs. Betsey as to their goal. They did not want any more words that night with their aunt, who had sat, like a graven image (providing a graven image has a very hearty appetite) all through the evening meal in an attitude of great offense.

The committee, whose actions had to be passed upon by Mrs. Case, the physical instructor, and Franklin Sharp, principal of the school, numbered among its members Laura Belding and her chum, Josephine Morse; Nellie Agnew, Dr. Agnew's daughter; Hester Grimes and Lily Pendleton, all sophomores and in the classes at Central High with the Lockwood twins. Hester Grimes, who was the daughter of a wealthy wholesale butcher, was not so well liked by the twins as some of the other sophomores. Hester could be a very unpleasant person if she wished to be – and on occasions in the past (as related in the previous volume of this series) Hester had lived up to her unhappy reputation. Lily Pendleton, however, usually backed Miss Grimes up in everything the latter said or did.

Although Laura Belding was only finishing her sophomore year at Central High, she had become so popular that she was chairman of this important committee, in which, in fact, the policy of the Girls' Branch Athletics was decided. The moment the old business had been disposed of and the way was open for new matters, Laura burst out with:

"Oh, girls! I've got the most exciting thing to tell you!"

"Don't tell us of any other big robbery," sighed Nellie Agnew. "We've heard nothing but robbery at our house ever since Stresch & Potter were broken into. And poor Billy Long!"

"Humph!" muttered Hester Grimes. "I hope they catch him and that he gets all that is coming to him. He always was a mean little brat!"

"Not at all!" cried one of the seniors. "Billy Long never did a mean thing in his life. But he is full of mischief."

"He'll get it, I fancy if the police catch him," laughed Lily Pendleton, unpleasantly.

"Order!" said Laura, gravely. "I did not introduce my subject in a very proper way, I know; but the trouble of Billy Long is far from our business to-night. As chairman of your committee I have received a communication which originally came from the Luna Boat Club. That is the wealthiest boat club on the lake, you know. They really have more to do with our Big Day than any other organization. And what do you think?"

"Why don't you get to it?" demanded Hester. "You're as slow as cold molasses running up a hill in January."

"Oh, give her a chance," admonished Jess, taking any criticism of her chum – but her own – in ill part.

"Well," said Laura, unruffled, "the secretary of the Luna Boat Club writes that the club as a whole is much interested in the trial of speed between the eight-oared shells of the several Girls' Highs and as a trophy for that particular race will present to the winner a silver cup – and you can just bet, girls, if it is anything the Luna Club presents, it will be a handsome one. Isn't that fine?"

"Oh, if we could only win it!" cried Jess, clasping her hands.

"You've got about as much chance of winning over Keyport as I have of flying," said Hester Grimes.

"If goodness is necessary to your wearing wings, Hester, I am afraid you really haven't much chance," said one of the seniors, sweetly, and there was a little giggle of approval from the younger girls.

"It is a sure thing that we can't win with our old tub," agreed Laura, nodding a thoughtful head.

"Pah!" snapped Hester. "You girls in that eight couldn't win anyway."

"I don't know why you say that, Hester," complained Nellie Agnew, who pulled Number 15 in the eight-oared shell. "We do our very best."

"That's what I say," laughed the Grimes girl. "And your 'very best' is about as slow as anything on the lake."

"Let me tell you that doesn't sound very loyal to the school, Miss," spoke up another senior.

"And who's to teach me how to talk?" demanded Hester, tossing her head. "I am not asking you, Miss."

"Order, please!" commanded Laura, firmly. "It is not a question of how badly or how well the eight rows. Not just now. We have received a notice of this prize. We must respond properly to the secretary of the Luna Club."

This item was disposed of; but Laura had another thing connected with it on her mind.

"It is quite true," she said, "that with the old shell we have been rowing in, it will be perfectly impossible for our eight to win the race. We are all agreed on that?"

"And all the sane ones are agreed that you couldn't win in any boat," declared Hester, in her very meanest way.

"Now, I wish you wouldn't talk that way, Hessie," complained Nellie Agnew.

"And it isn't so, either!" exclaimed Jess Morse.

"Give us a good shell and we'll show you," said Dorothy Lockwood.

"That is what we need," agreed her twin.

"Of course we can win under any decent circumstances," said Laura, "now that we have Bobby Hargrew to be coxswain again."

Hester was silenced for the time. "Bobby," or Clara Hargrew, had been in difficulties with the school authorities a few weeks before, and had been debarred from all the after-hour athletics – and Hester Grimes had been partly to blame for Bobby's trouble.

"The point of the whole matter is," said Celia Prime, one of the older girls, who was on the point of graduating from Central High, "that the eight need and must have a new shell. Our present boat is a disgrace."

"I object to our centering all our efforts upon that particular boat and crew," snapped Hester.

"So do I," declared Lily, her chum.

"The canoes and the single and double oars have better chances to win than the eight," pursued Hester. "We are centering on the eight because the bulk of the present crew are members of this committee."

"That is not so, Hessie," declared Mary O'Rourke, another senior who rowed in the eight.

"The whole school is interested," said a junior member of the executive board. "The girls talk more about the eight than about anything else."

"And that talk is all very skilfully worked up by Laura, here, and her friends," declared Hester. "Oh! some of us have eyes and ears, I hope."

"And a tongue that is hung in the middle and wags both ways!" whispered Jess.

"We are wrangling without coming to any conclusion," said Laura, sighing. "What shall we do about the shell? Can we get a new one – "

"Who'll buy it for us?" demanded Lily.

"That's just it," agreed Laura.

"Let's ask our folks to all chip in a quarter," said Jess.

"If the parents of every girl at school did that we'd scarcely be able to buy a new shell," returned the chairman.

"I know that my father will never give a penny toward a new shell – not while the crew remains as inefficient as it is at present," said Hester, tossing her head.

"But if you were in Celia's place, at stroke," snapped Jess, who was rather peppery in temper, "I suppose he would go right down into his pocket and purchase a boat for us himself?"

"Perhaps he would, Miss Smartie!" returned the butcher's daughter.

"Any change in the crew is up to Mrs. Case and the girls of the association – you know that, Hessie," Laura said, gravely. "We all got our positions because the instructor thought we were the better rowers – "

"Oh, bah!" ejaculated the angry Hester. "We all know how you are favored in everything, Miss! As for the new shell – I sha'n't do a thing toward helping get one; make up your mind to that."

"That certainly is a terrible stroke of bad news, Hester," drawled one of the older girls. "Now, you would better keep still and let some of the rest of us talk a while. For a sophomore, you have a lot to say that is inconsequential."

Some of the younger girls chuckled at this. But the occasion and the dispute itself were too serious to engender much hilarity. The question of the new shell was exhaustively discussed, and it was finally decided that a subscription paper be drawn and presented to the parents and friends of Central High, and a sufficient sum be raised immediately, if possible, to pay for a new eight-oared shell.

At the break-up of the meeting Laura Belding spoke to several of the girls, including the twins, of a little junket that had been planned for Monday afternoon after school. Dora and Dorothy, Jess Morse, Nellie Agnew, and several other sophomores were invited to come to school prepared to ride directly from the school gate in automobiles into the country beyond Robinson's Woods, to a farmer's, whose family some of the girls already knew.

"Eve Sitz's father raises the most luscious berries, and they are right at their height, Eve telephoned me to-day," said Laura. "She wants to give us a real strawberry festival Monday evening – and there is a moon for us to come home by. Chet and Lance and a lot of the boys will go along, too. We're going to have Mr. Purcell's sight-seeing auto as well as our own, and they will hold all of us comfortably."

"Goody!" cried Dora Lockwood. "You are always thinking up the most perfectly scrumptious things to do, Laura!"

"'Most perfectly scrumptious,'" repeated Nellie, laughing. "If Gee Gee heard you say that, Miss – Ahem! – was it Dora or Dorothy?"

The girls laughed, but the other twin shook her head seriously. "There is no Dora at present. We are both Dorothy Lockwood," and when their friends demanded an explanation, the story of Aunt Dora's determination to take her namesake home with her to live came out in a torrent.

"I'm glad I'm not a twin," declared Jess Morse, laughing till her sides ached. "They're lots of fun, these twins; but it's no fun to be one of them, after all!"

The Lockwood girls really were in a serious mood when they made their way homeward. It was a tragedy, in their minds, to be separated; and Dora and Dorothy vowed to each other, whatever befell, that Aunt Dora should not discover which girl had been named in her honor.

CHAPTER VIII

HIDE AND SEEK

The Lockwood twins were glad of an excuse – and a good one – for dodging Aunt Dora for one afternoon and evening, and they therefore welcomed the invitation to the strawberry festival at the Sitz farm with acclaim. But there intervened the long Sunday when Aunt Dora nagged them – and everybody else about the cottage – all day.

Mary, the hired girl, who had been with them since she had landed at Ellis Island, and who loved the twins as though they were her own, and admired Mrs. Betsey more than anybody else living, came to the verge of "giving notice" whenever Aunt Dora came into view of the house.

"Sure, I was a bogtrotter when Oi landed, and we did kape the pig in the kitchen – I admit it," declaimed the faithful Mary. "But I've been bred to wor'rk under as clane a housekaper as ever wore shoes – God bless her! And to have that ould ormadoun come here and tell me me flures ar're not clane, and me bedrooms smell musty – Ah – h! bad 'cess to the loikes av her!"

Mrs. Betsey, to save losing Mary altogether, gave her permission to take Sunday afternoon and evening off. That would free her from the "eagle eye" of Aunt Dora for a few hours, at least.

"Aunt Dora is what old-fashioned people used to call 'nasty clean'," grumbled Mr. Lockwood, as he prepared to flee to his beloved plants, despite the sacredness of the day. "She's so clean that she makes everybody else unhappy about it. But have patience, children. It can't last forever."

It was Mrs. Betsey who was put through the "third degree" early in the morning. Couldn't she really tell the twins apart? Wasn't there something in their voices dissimilar? Was there not some mark on their bodies by which Dora could be distinguished from Dorothy? Hadn't one child a scar that the other did not have?

"My dear madam," declared the old housekeeper and nurse, in desperation. "I gave up the question as hopeless ten years and more ago. If those girls do not wish to own up, nobody can tell them apart, you may be sure of that. Yes, they are stubborn – and they are pert. They have never been governed by harshness or by fear. The only way that I know to make Dora tell you which she is, is to make her love you enough to tell you."

"Nonsense!" snapped Aunt Dora. "They are children. They must obey."

"In that particular, madam," said Mrs. Betsey, shaking her head, "I fail to see how you are to make them obey."

"They both should be punished."

"Even that would not make them obey you – no matter what the punishment. And you know," added the old lady, with eyes that began to brighten warningly, "Mr. Lockwood would not hear of the twins being punished."

"If they were mine I'd spank them both!" declared Aunt Dora, spitefully.

"And that is perhaps one reason why neither wishes to go home with you," returned Mrs. Betsey, pointedly.

As Mary was gone for the day the twins agreed to get tea; and there being a certain famous recipe, which had been the Lockwood family property for generations, for tea-biscuit, the twins promised Mr. Lockwood he should have them.

"Can't one of you make the biscuit, without the other?" demanded Aunt Dora, her gray eyes beginning to sparkle.

"Dora really makes them the best, I believe," said Mrs. Betsey, placidly, stroking the front of her silk gown, as she sat in her low rocker by the front window.

"Ha!" exclaimed the militant lady. "Then let Dora make them."

"Oh, we'll both make 'em," exclaimed one of the twins, getting up with her sister to go to the kitchen. "One of us can sift the flour while the other is preparing the tins. We'll make you a double quantity, Papa," she added, over her shoulder, her own eyes dancing merrily.

"Now! which was that?" demanded Aunt Dora. "Was it Dora – or Dorothy?"

"I really couldn't say," murmured Mr. Lockwood.

"Dorothy usually sifts the flour," offered Mrs. Betsey.

"But Dora makes up the biscuit best," said Mr. Lockwood.

Aunt Dora looked from one unruffled face to the other; then she got up quietly and stole from the room. She tiptoed through the hall to the pantry door. There she waited until she was sure the twins were busy at the dresser and stove.

So she stepped into the pantry and pushed aside the white dimity curtain at the window in the door which opened into the kitchen. One twin was busily buttering the tins while the other was sifting the ingredients of the biscuits in the big yellow mixing bowl.

"So Dorothy usually sifts the flour, does she?" muttered the determined old lady, staring hard at the back of the sifter's head.

But one thing Aunt Dora did not know. Every time the girl sifting the flour glanced up from her work she looked straight into a mirror over the dresser, tipped at such an angle that it showed the pantry door. She saw the curtain drawn back and her aunt's nose appear at the window. At once she said to her sister:

"Are you afraid of the wolf at the door?"

"Eh?" jerked out the other twin, looking up quickly.

"But if poor papa is so poor, you know, maybe one of us ought to go home with Aunt Dora."

The girl buttering the tins saw her sister's wink and nod, and glanced slily in the mirror, too.

"We will fight the wolf at the door and drive it away," she declared, with spirit. "We'll leave school and go to work rather than be separated. Isn't that the way you feel?"

"I should feel that I'd rather work than go home with Auntie, if I were Dora," declared she who was sifting.

"So should I if I were Dora," agreed her sister.

A minute later one of the girls, while testing the heat of the oven, screamed.

"Oh, oh!" she cried. "Oh, oh! I'm burned! Look at that!" and she held up her wrist with a white mark across it.

Her sister darted across the kitchen, crying:

"I'll get the witch hazel – you poor dear!"

She had forgotten Aunt Dora, hiding in the pantry, and she collided with her with considerable force.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded the exasperated old lady.

"Nothing with me," returned the hurrying girl. "It's she who's burned."

"Who's burned?" cried Aunt Dora. "Which of you is hurt?"

The girl who had stopped recovered her self-possession. "Let me go, Auntie," she said, quietly. "My sister has burned her wrist."

And so the anxious and determined aunt did not catch the twins off their guard, neither in war nor peace.

CHAPTER IX

ONE IS A HEROINE

When the girls invited to Evangeline Sitz's "party" hurried out of Central High on Monday afternoon, they found, as Laura Belding had promised, her father's automobile, as well as one of Mr. Purcell's big, three-seated "lumber barges," as the boys called Centerport's sight-seeing autos. There were three seats behind the driver's, each wide enough for four persons.