The Girls of Central High: or, Rivals for All Honors
Laura Belding was not of a revengeful nature. She hadn’t even Bobby Hargrew’s desire to “get even” with an enemy. But the mystery of what had happened to her in the haunted house troubled her mind.
Once Jess had mentioned that she thought she had seen Hester Grimes take an electric car for the city the night of the M. O. R. scare at Robinson’s Woods. Laura could not help wondering what Hester had been doing up there.
The auto veil Laura had brought back with her was ecru-colored, and was an expensive one. It was strange that anybody should have left such a thing up there in the old house. Not many girls, at least, could have afforded to purchase such a costly veil and then throw it away.
The Grimeses often hired a car; but then, plenty of girls Laura knew wore automobile veils who had never ridden in a car! It was merely a fashion in apparel. So she kept silent about the veil – never even mentioned it to her chum, or to her brother, or to Lance Darby – and bided her time.
The basket-ball game had made the remainder of the team very angry with Hester Grimes. Only Lily Pendleton stood by her. Hester declared to everybody who would listen that the “game was fixed” and that the Central High team had no chance of winning.
“I guess that’s so,” said Bobby Hargrew, who overheard Hester say this. “You fixed it all right. I watched you. You’d queer anything you went into. It’s lucky you’re not rowing in the eight-oared shell. We’d have less chance of winning the girls’ boat race than we have, if you were!”
“Well, Miss, they certainly cannot accuse you of harming their chances of winning,” snapped Hester Grimes. “You’re out of it!”
And that was so! The girls’ eight-oared shell was without its little coxswain. Bertha Sleigel could not manipulate the steering apparatus of the long boat as Bobby had. And the boat races – rather an informal affair preceding the mid-summer aquatic sports – would come on in a fortnight now.
Bobby Hargrew had been very good in school for some weeks. Even Gee Gee could find no fault with her behavior. But it was more on Laura’s account than for any other reason that the irrepressible held herself in. She did not forget that Laura had interceded with Mr. Sharp for her.
The eight-oared crew was to use a second-hand boat; they owned no boat of their own, but hoped to purchase one, or have one presented to them, before the mid-summer sports on Lake Luna.
Professor Dimp, who coached the boys, having been a famous stroke in his own college, coached the girls as well. He was a very severe disciplinarian; but he had picked the crew for the big shell with judgment and skill.
And to make up a crew is no small matter. As far as physical conformation goes in the choice of a crew for an eight-oared scull, tall girls were preferable to short, well built to thin, and heavy girls to “feather-weights.” Saving in the cox, the girls were all chosen for their mature physique and long arms.
And Professor Dimp chose the crew and selected their positions with as much care as he gave to his boys’ crew. One cannot take enthusiastic girls hap-hazard and make a winning crew.
First of all the professor chose Celia Prime for stroke oar. Scores of girls can follow time, or stroke, after practice; but some who make the best rowers could never in this world “set the stroke” for a crew. Celia proved herself to be an accomplished stroke, with first-rate form, great pluck, and not easily confused. She could maintain the same number of equally well rowed strokes, whether rapid, medium, or slow; and she could spurt when necessary without throwing the rest of the crew into disorder.
At Number 7 a well-tried oarsman is needed, too, and the professor selected Laura Belding for that onerous position. Number 7 is supposed to take up the stroke duly and to give finish to the action of the crew. A crew that does not work in perfect unison cannot by any possibility be a winning crew.
As selected by Professor Dimp, the girls’ crew was as follows:
Celia Prime, stroke
Laura Belding, No. 7
Dora Lockwood, No. 6
Nellie Agnew, No. 5
Roberta Fish, No. 4
Mary O’Rourke, No. 3
Dorothy Lockwood, No. 2
Jess Morse, bow.
They missed Bobby Hargrew dreadfully; but the crew practised as frequently as possible, hoping to break Bertha in as coxswain, and get her seat shifted to the best place possible for the balancing of the boat. But Bertha was not like Bobby – and she was pounds heavier!
The eight-oared shell of the girls of Central High would compete with similar boats from both of the other Centerport High Schools and with boats from the Highs of Lumberport and Keyport. The three cities being located upon this beautiful inland lake, the young folks were all more or less familiar with aquatic sports. But never before the establishment of the Girls’ Branch Athletic Association had the girls of the several cities competed.
The newspapers of the three towns gave plenty of space to amateur athletics, and the big men of the educational boards had taken up the girls’ athletic work with vigor, too. Those interested looked forward to many field days and exhibitions during the ensuing months. But outside of their school work the crew of this particular eight-oared shell had little thought for anything but the approaching race.
The boathouse and landing where the shell was kept was right beside the girls’ bathing place and athletic field. Naturally, too, it was near Colonel Richard Swayne’s handsome place. As the girls were rowing in one afternoon after practice they saw the Colonel, with a veiled lady in a wheel-chair, on the bank. They seemed to be watching the girls pulling in so easily; but whether the Colonel approved of them, or not, they did not know.
“And he’s got oodles of money!” sighed Roberta Fish. “Wish he’d give us some for our athletic field.”
“But he won’t,” said Dora Lockwood. “He says we make too much noise. We disturb his daughter. She can’t sleep much, they say, and afternoons we spoil her forty winks.”
“It is too bad if we really do disturb her with our noise,” said Laura, thoughtfully.
“You’ll never get any money out of the Colonel, Laura,” declared Jess.
“I will!” returned Laura, firmly. “You wait and see. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Huh! but it wouldn’t ever have been built at all if Romulus and Remus hadn’t made a commencement,” scoffed her chum.
The races were held on Saturday afternoon of that week. There were paddling races, four-oared shell races, and eight-oared shell races. There were many classes of contestants; but interest centered mainly in the events in which the high school boys and girls participated.
The girls’ eight-oared shell race was the last number on the program. It was a straight-away half-mile race – not too long, or too short, for girls of the age taking part in the sport.
The five boats got into position with some skill and they got a better start than in the boys’ races. The crowds gathered on shore and on the boats lining the course cheered the girls as they shot away over the bright water.
It was a warm and beautiful day and the water was as calm as a millpond. It was “fast water” indeed!
The crew of Central High were looking their best and “feeling fine.” They caught Celia’s stroke instantly and, at the swinging pace she set, their boat darted through the water, keeping well up at first with the leading shell.
On so short a course the first few strokes, even, sometimes tell the tale. The Keyport crew took the lead at the start, but both East High and Central High of Centerport were close after the leader. The Central crew, indeed, for some rods were only half a length behind the Keyport shell.
It was a pretty fight, and the voices of the spectators grew in volume as the five shells shot along the course.
CHAPTER XXI – THE FINISH OF THE BOAT RACE
Chetwood Belding and his chum, Lance Darby, were in a motor-boat and that boat kept pace with the racing shells. The boat belonged to Prettyman Sweet; but Purt could not run the craft and depended upon his friends to run it for him. “Pretty Sweet” couldn’t do much of anything, so it seemed, and therefore, as Chet remarked, things were made “pretty soft for him.”
The boys in the launch cheered the girls of Central High vociferously. Laura and her comrades rowed like veterans. They “kept their eyes in the boat” and Celia pulled a stroke that was both quick and long. The shell was driving through the water at increasing speed.
But the Keyport boat kept ahead. And she seemed to be gaining on Central High, too, though that gain was very slow. The shell of the East High girls crept up, nearer and nearer, its bow overlapping the stern of the Central High shell.
But of a sudden West High of Centerport, coming up on the other side, fouled East High. Their oars crashed together for an instant. It scarcely cost the East High girls an inch; but the colliding boat fell out of the race and dropped back behind the Lumberport shell.
This latter came up with a rush. East High kept ahead of Lumberport for a few yards, and then fell back. The girls from the upper end of the lake came on with increasing speed. Keyport was struggling to maintain its place in the lead. The Central High girls were dropping back by inches.
It was useless for the latter crew to strain further. Lumberport was passing them. Yet Celia set the pace for a spurt and her comrades did their level best. Bertha, in the stern, however, got excited, and shifted her seat. It made the boat drag heavily, and the Lumberport shell passed them with a rush.
Those last few yards all three of the head crews were under great strain. But each held to its work as truly as had the boys’ crews earlier in the day.
The Lumberport boat could not overtake the Keyport; but it came in Number 2. Central High was Number 3, and East High fourth, while West High had fallen out of the race entirely. The three leading boats, however, crossed the line within lengths of each other – a close and exciting finish.
But the girls of Central High were vastly disappointed. The race should have been theirs, according to the time elapsed from start to finish. Often they had done a straight-away half-mile at better speed when Bobby Hargrew was there. There was something fundamentally wrong with the eight-oared crew.
“We could have won – I know we could! – if Bobby had been in her place,” wailed Jess Morse. “See how mean Gee Gee is!”
“See how unfortunate Bobby is,” returned her chum.
“See how unfortunate we all are,” added Mary O’Rourke. “I believe if that little scamp had been in our boat to-day we would have won.”
“We’ll never win without a better balanced boat – that is sure,” said Laura, gravely, as she and Jess hurried through dressing so as to join the boys for a trip to Cavern Island.
“And the mid-summer races coming on!” groaned Jess.
“We’ll have to get her back before that time,” declared her chum, assertively.
“But suppose she has to leave school for setting that fire in Mr. Sharp’s office?”
“She never set it!” exclaimed Laura, quickly.
“Who did, then?”
“That is what we must find out,” announced Laura, decidedly.
“How ridiculous you talk!” exclaimed Jess. “We can’t find out.”
“I believe one can explain almost any mystery if one only puts mind enough to it.”
“That’s all right, Miss Sherlock Holmes. Put your great mind to it. Be the greatest female detective of the age!” scoffed Jess. “You’re going to do wonders, aren’t you? How about getting a big present from Colonel Swayne for our new athletic field, too? Say! you’ve been promising a whole lot that you’ll never perform, Laura.”
“I’ve been promising to try, my dear. And I can still try,” laughed her friend.
But Laura was very much in earnest regarding three things just at this time. First, was the discovery of how the fire started in the schoolhouse; second was the mystery of the person who had bound her in the haunted house in Robinson’s Woods; third was the interesting of the wealthy Colonel Swayne in girls’ athletics.
This last would seem to be the hardest of all, for Colonel Swayne had, on several occasions of late, complained to the school board that the athletic field and bathing place adjoining his estate was a nuisance. He complained of the shrill voices of the girls at play; but how did he expect young folk to disport themselves and have a good time without shouting and laughter?
The week following the boat race two eagerly contested doubles were going on the courts next to Colonel Swayne’s line at the same time. The girls were making a great deal of noise, but they were doing so innocently. Once a serving man had climbed a stepladder and, looking over the hedge and fence, announced that his master “would be pleased if the young ladies went to the further side of the field to play.”
“How ridiculous!” exclaimed Jess Morse, who happened to be one of the contestants. “Does he think that we can pick up the courts and move them about at will?”
So the girls went on enjoying themselves, and, it must be confessed, did little to lower their voices. Laura had dressed and was coming to the gate when she heard angry voices there. The keeper was saying:
“Very sorry, sir; you cannot come in without a ticket. This is not visiting day.”
“I’ll show you whether I can come in or not!” roared the voice of Colonel Swayne. “Think I’m going to brow-beaten by a lot of little snips that had better be at home in their nurseries? Their parents ought to be ashamed of themselves for bringing them up so badly. And as for this idiotic school board of Centerport – ”
His voice died away as Laura came modestly out of the gate. The old gentleman, choleric as he was, could not face the young girl’s cool bow and still bully the gate keeper.
“I – I – ” he stammered. Then his eye lit up with recognition. “I say!” he growled. “You’re the girl who saved that man on the steeple.”
“Yes, sir,” returned Laura, demurely. “I am Laura Belding, Colonel.”
“Look here! Can’t those girls in there keep better order? They sound like a pack of wild Indians. I never heard such yelling.”
“Oh, Colonel! we are only having a little fun, mixed with physical culture, after school hours,” said Laura.
“Call it fun?” gasped the Colonel. “Sounds more like a massacre!”
“I wish you could come in and see how the girls enjoy themselves, sir,” said Laura. “But visitors are not allowed save on invitation. But I will ask Mr. Sharp to send you tickets – ”
“I don’t want to see ’em!” exclaimed the old gentleman. “Think I’m hanging around here to see a parcel of girls be as unladylike as they can? Let me tell you when I was young, girls didn’t have athletics – and yell like Indians while they were at it!”
“But don’t you think the girls to-day are a lot nicer than the girls used to be?” asked Laura, demurely.
“No, I don’t, Miss!” But the Colonel had to smile a little now. Laura, was so unruffled and smiling herself that he could not wholly maintain his “grouch.” Besides, he had admired the girl immensely ever since she had shown she had so good a headpiece.
“Why, even my mother says that we girls are much better physically than the girls of her day. We work much harder in school, but we do not get nervous and ‘all played out,’ as the saying is. She believes it is due to our physical exercises and our outdoor lives. The games and exercises we have in this athletic field are making us stronger and abler to meet the difficulties of life. Don’t you believe so, sir?”
“I must confess I had never given it much thought,” admitted the old gentleman, eyeing her curiously.
“Don’t you see how much healthier and stronger we are than even the girls were ten years ago?” she persisted.
“I never gave much attention to girls – only to one girl,” he replied, with a drop in his voice and a gloomy brow.
“You mean your daughter – Mrs. Kerrick?”
“Poor Mabel!” the old man sighed. “Yes. She never was given to activities of any kind – save social activities. She has never been well.”
“But suppose she had ‘gone in’ moderately for athletics when she was my age?” suggested Laura.
“There were no such things in either the private or public schools at that time, my dear,” said the old gentleman, shaking his head. “They had what they called ‘calisthenic drills’; but I guess they did not pay much attention to them, after all. Poor Mabel was always nervous – little things annoyed her so dreadfully. And that is why the screeching of those girls annoys her now,” added Colonel Swayne, with a quickening note of anger in his voice. “And it’s got to be stopped.”
“Oh, please don’t say that, Colonel!” begged Laura. “I – I hoped you would be interested in our work in time, and help us. We need so many things, you know!”
“Want my help, do you?” demanded the old gentleman, grimly. “And my daughter not able to sleep for weeks!”
“But, Colonel! we are not on the field at night.”
“And she doesn’t sleep at all at night. Why, she hasn’t had a night’s sleep in weeks upon weeks. But sometimes she is able to just lose herself in the afternoon. I allow nobody to come to the house, and the servants move about within doors in felt slippers. I do everything not to disturb her – and here you crazy young-ones are raising particular Sam Hill out there in that open lot!”
Under other circumstances Laura would have been tempted to laugh at the old gentleman’s heat. But she knew that he felt for his daughter very deeply – although Laura believed, with the other neighbors, that if Mrs. Kerrick would rouse herself, she could shake off much of her nervous disorder.
“Hasn’t she been attended by Dr. Agnew?” asked Laura patiently.
“Oh, the Doc doesn’t seem to realize how sick she is,” grunted Colonel Swayne, “He does not give her enough of his attention. I feel sometimes that she ought to have some younger and more up-to-date practitioner attend her. Agnew thinks she makes her case out worse than it is.”
“But if she cannot sleep – ”
“And that’s another thing. He will not give her anything to make her sleep. Says her heart is too weak to stand it. But the truth is, Doc does not believe in giving drugs much. You know how he is,” said the Colonel, finding himself – to his secret surprise – talking to this young girl as though she were grown up!
“But isn’t it because she sleeps in the daytime that she cannot sleep at night?” asked Laura, thoughtfully.
“Great heavens! she can’t sleep in the daytime with you girls yelling like fiends right next door,” cried the Colonel, going back to the subject of his exasperation.
“Now, Colonel! we don’t yell like fiends,” declared Laura, in a little heat herself. “You know we don’t. And we are only there after half past three and until half past five – and sometimes from seven o’clock until dark. And so far the athletic field has been open but four afternoons a week.”
“By Jove, though! You make yourselves a nuisance when you are there,” declared the Colonel.
“We don’t mean to, I can assure you. And if your daughter cannot sleep save during the hours when we can go to the field, I believe the girls would all be willing to make concessions of their time. You surely mean that Mrs. Kerrick is suffering from insomnia?”
“I should say she was,” sighed the Colonel. “The last time we had a thunderstorm was – when?”
“Why, we have scarcely any this season. You know for weeks not a drop of rain has fallen. Our lawn is suffering.”
“Mine, too,” grunted the Colonel. “But that isn’t the point. The last night’s sleep she had was when we had that thunderstorm. The doctor told us she would sleep better if she removed her bed to the top floor so that she could hear the patter of rain on the roof. She has a big room at the back of the house and not only is the roof right over her head, but the tin roof of the extension is right under her windows. But, since she moved up there, there hasn’t been a shower, either day or night! And no prospect of one, so the papers say – what’s the matter with you?”
For Laura showed that she was startled and she looked up into his face very earnestly. “Oh, Colonel Swayne!” she murmured.
“What’s the matter now?” he demanded.
“Do you really believe she could sleep naturally again if there were thunderstorms at night? Do you really believe it?”
“Why – yes. I know it to be a fact, Miss Laura. And so does the doctor. With my daughter it is a proven fact. Even when she was a girl she could always sleep calmly if the rain pattered on the roof. There’s nothing more soothing for the nervous patient.”
“Then, Colonel, I’ve got an idea!” gasped Laura.
“I hope it is as good an idea as that one you had the day the man got caught on St. Cecelia’s steeple,” laughed the Colonel.
“It is as good a one,” declared Laura, very earnestly.
“Do you mean something about Mrs. Kerrick?” he asked, more eagerly.
“Yes, sir. Something to help her sleep.”
“Have you got influence enough with the weather bureau to bring a storm when none is forecast?” he asked, rather whimsically.
“It will amount to the same, sir. I want to try. May I?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Miss Laura,”
“I know you don’t; but if you’ll just be patient and wait until this evening – after supper – I’ll show you. Let my brother and me and – yes! – one of his chums, come over to your house. We three will be enough. What time does Mrs. Kerrick retire?”
“Why, she usually goes to bed early.”
“Then tell her nothing about our coming. Can we come, Colonel?”
“Why – why – surely! But I don’t understand.”
“You will, sir, when we arrive. I’ll tell you all about it then. We’ll be there about dark,” promised Laura, and she darted away through a side street, running hard, she was so much in earnest and had so much to do in preparation for the performance she had in mind.
CHAPTER XXII – STAGING A THUNDERSTORM
Somewhere Laura Belding had read of this very thing!
But the idea that Dr. Agnew approved of Mrs. Kerrick sleeping where she could hear the patter of rain drops gave incentive to Laura’s thought and set her about following out the idea that had first flashed across her mind.
She found Chet and Lance hard at work cleaning the automobile. That was as much fun for them as it would have been for Laura and Jess to go to a party. Laura took her brother and Lance into her confidence instantly.
At first Chet was inclined to pooh-pooh the idea; but Lance, loyal to Laura, fell in with her plan instantly. And by and by Chet came around, and said he would aid his sister in carrying through what he termed “a crazy idea.”
They had to take Mr. and Mrs. Belding into their confidence at the supper table, for they had to get permission to use the car that evening. Mrs. Belding was somewhat doubtful of Laura’s scheme, and called it “an escapade.” But her father was always an easy captive to his oldest daughter’s whimsies, and he cheered her idea enthusiastically.
“And besides,” said Chet, slily, “Laura is trying to rope in the old Colonel and make him cough up for the girls’ athletic field. I know her!”
“Chetwood!” ejaculated his mother. “Is it proper to speak of your sister as a ‘roper in’ – as though she were a female cowboy? And why should the Colonel contract a bronchial affection for the sake of the girls’ athletics?”
The family assembled had to laugh at this; but Chet was somewhat abashed, too.
“Don’t be so hard on a fellow, Mother,” he begged. “I can’t remember to shift languages when I come into your presence – it is just impossible. To talk Americanese outside the house and stilted English within – well, it’s just impossible. I’m sure to get my wires crossed – there I go again!”
“I really do not see why you send this boy to high school, James,” sighed Mrs. Belding. “It seems to be a waste of time. ‘Stilted English,’ indeed!”
But Mr. Belding was inclined to laugh at her. And he was very much interested in Laura’s plan for helping Mrs. Kerrick get a good night’s sleep.
“I think,” said the father, “that the principal trouble with Mabel Kerrick – and always has been – is she has never had any real object in life worth living for. If Fred Kerrick had been a different sort of a man while he lived – or if he had lived more than three months after they were married – Mabel might have amounted to something.”
