Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) VIRGINIAâS ADVENTURE CLUB [Illustration: âIâm not scared of you,â she said.] VIRGINIAâS ADVENTURE CLUB By GRACE MAY NORTH Author of âVirginia of V. M. Ranch,â âVirginia at Vine Haven,â âVirginiaâs Ranch Neighbors,â âVirginiaâs Romance.â [Illustration] A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York Printed in U. S. A. THE VIRGINIA DAVIS SERIES A SERIES OF STORIES FOR GIRLS OF TWELVE TO SIXTEEN YEARS OF AGE By GRACE MAY NORTH VIRGINIA OF V. M. RANCH VIRGINIA AT VINE HAVEN VIRGINIAâS ADVENTURE CLUB VIRGINIAâS RANCH NEIGHBORS VIRGINIAâS ROMANCE Copyright, 1924 By A. L. BURT COMPANY VIRGINIAâS ADVENTURE CLUB Made in âU. S. A.â VIRGINIAâS ADVENTURE CLUB CHAPTER I THE ADVENTURE CLUB âNow that the Christmas holidays are over,â Babs remarked on the first Monday evening after the close of the short vacation, âI mean to redeem myself.â Margaret Selover looked down at the Dresden China girl who, her fluffy golden curls loosened from their fastenings, was wearing a blue corduroy kimona which matched her eyes. Babs sat tailorwise upon the furry white rug close to their grate fire. Megsy laughed. âWhich means?â she inquired as she sat in front of her birds-eye maple dressing table, brushing her pretty brown hair. âWhich means that I have determined to startle the natives by getting my name on the honor roll. Watchez-vous me! See if I donât.â âI certainly admire your French.â Margaret was donning her golden brown robe that was woolly and warm. Then, when she, too, was seated opposite her roommate, she inquired: âBut why this sudden ambition? I thought your motto has always been âLearn as little as you can, for wisdom makes a stupid man.ââ âWell, doesnât it?â Babs flashed. âTake Professor Crowell fer instance. He probably knows as much as the encyclopÃ¦dia, and yet, who can deny but that he is stupid. He goes around ruminating on things that nobody else could understand, and he canât even tell his own daughters apart.â Margaret laughed. âWell, belovedest, I donât think you and I are either of us in danger of becoming as wise as Professor Crowell, and as for telling Dora and Cora apartâwho can? Certainly not Mrs. Martin, and theyâve been in this school since they were small.â Then more seriously, she clasped her hands over her drawn-up knees, Margaret continued: âBut I would like to be as wise as Miss Torrence. When she is reading to us and there is a reference to someone or something that happened in the long ago, you know how her eyes brighten. She is seeing a picture that represents it. I know, because yesterday when I came across a reference to the Peripatetic school, I was as pleased as Punch. I knew at once that the Greek word meant âto walk,â and that it had been used because Aristotle, the greatest of ancient philosophers, walked up and down in his garden while teaching. And so I have decided that, if learning does nothing else, it adds a lot to oneâs own pleasure.â Babs glanced at the clock over the mantle. âI donât see why the girls donât come,â she said, trying to suppress a little yawn. Margaret laughed and leaned over to poke up the fire. âMy professorial discourse has evidently made you sleepy. Hark! I believe I hear approaching giggles.â A merry tattoo on the closed door announced the arrival of the expected guests, and in they trooped, each wearing a bath robe or warm kimona of the color which the owner believed to be most becoming to her particular type of beauty. Betsy Clossen, in a brilliant cherry-red robe, was the first to burst in. Then, observing the solemn faces of the two before the fire, she remarked inelegantly: âFor Peteâs sake, who died? I thought we were going to have a giggle-fest to celebrate our reunion, after the long separation, and here are our hostesses looking as though they had just heard that theyâd both failed in the final tests.â The newcomers dropped down on chairs or floor, as they preferred. Barbara continued to look unusually solemn. âThatâs just it,â she announced. Then to Margaret: âThatâs why I told you awhile ago that I mean to redeem myself. I flunked on the holiday tests, and I was the only one in our crowd who did. Even Betsyââ She paused and there was a mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes that had been serious longer than was their wont. âBelieve me, I just got through by the skin of my teeth!â that maiden announced in her characteristic manner. âSpent too much time playing detective, and failed at that, too.â âIâll tell you what!â Virginia Davis, who had been a sympathetic listener, spoke for the first time. âLetâs have a study club and meet in one of our rooms every Saturday evening and have an oral review of the weekâs work.â âOoh!â moaned Betsy; âthat doesnât sound very interesting.â âIâm for it,â Babs announced; âand when the grind part is over, couldnât we have refreshments?â This, hopefully. âWhy, of course. We are always allowed to make fudge on Saturday eveningââ Virginia had begun, when Betsy put in: âOh, I say; please change the name of it; then Iâll enjoy it heaps more, if one can enjoy anything related to learning.â âCanât we think up some name that wonât sound the least bit studious? Then we can have the real object a secret.â âWe might call it The Adventure Club if you would enjoy the meetings more than you would if we called it The Weekly Review.â Margaret smilingly suggested. âIâm for it,â Betsy declared, then added doubtfully. âI suppose my new roommate will think she ought to be let in on it. Would any of you mind? Sheâs not such a bad sort.â âWho did you draw, Bets? I thought you hoped you were to have your room alone this term.ââ âSo did I, but Fate was aginâ me. Just as I was spreading my duds all over the room, thinking I was to be sole possessor, along came Mrs. Martin with a roommate for me. Since Sally MacLean didnât come the first term, I didnât ever expect her back again.â âSentimental Sally!â Babs and Megsy exclaimed in one breath. âHas she returned to Vine Haven?â A doleful nod was Betsyâs only reply. Then she laughed gaily as though at some merry memory. âI suppose you girls who donât know her are wondering why we call her âSentimental Sally,â and so Iâll tell you.â âWell, proceed. Weâre all ears, as the elephantâs child was once heard to remark,â Barbara said as she leaned back against Virginia, who sat in the easy willow chair. âIs this Sentimental Sally, silly?â Virg inquired. Betsy laughed. âSilly?â she repeated with rising inflection, âSheâs worse than that. Sheâs bugs! Or rather, she was. I sort of think sheâs cured. Time alone will tell.â âSally is always in love or thinks she is, which is perfectly ridiculous,â Margaret explained, âsince she is only fifteen.â âIâve sometimes thought that if Sally had had brothers, as we have, she wouldnât have had such foolish notions,â Barbara remarked. âYou have the floor now, Betsy, tell the girls the woeful tale of Sallyâs downfall.â âWell, to begin at the beginning, Miss Snoopins, otherwise known as the Belligerent Buell, is death on members of the sex not fair.â âMeaning boys,â Barbara put in. âOne of the rules that she made for the corridors was that no photographs of the objectionable creatures should be displayed in our rooms. Well, as usual, Sally was being sentimental about somebody, and the somebody was certainly a most good-looking boy. She called him âDonald Dearâ and raved about him whenever she could find anyone to listen. âOf course she wanted to have his photo in her room, but that was against the rules, so she got around it in this way. Her grandmotherâs picture was in a frame that was suspended between two little gilt pillars and could be swung over with the back to the front, so to speak. Sally fastened her Donaldâs picture back of her grandmotherâs photo, and when she was all alone in the room, the boy smiled out at her, but when she heard footsteps in the corridor, she darted to the mantel and turned it over that her grandmotherâs face might be the one to greet whoever was about to enter. In this way Sally evaded Miss Snoopins for a long time, but we knew that a day of reckoning would surely come. Nor were we mistaken. âWe were all in her room on Thanksgiving. Maybe I ought to be ashamed to confess that, silly as we thought her, we were willing enough to partake of the spreads that came to her from a doting mother on any and all holidays. Sally is good-natured and she just adores me. Not much of a comp, considering her lack of brains, but anyway when we got a bid to her room for a Thanksgiving spread, we were all there, Megsy, Babs, Dicky Taylor and the present speaker. The craziest part of it was that we might have had that spread early in the evening, with permission, if we had wished, but that wouldnât have been romantic enough to suit Sally. She wanted to wait until the lights-out bell had rung and then, when Miss Snoopins had passed down the hall, to be sure that the gong had been obeyed, she wanted us to all steal into her room, which we did. Sally then locked the door and hung a towel over the keyhole and drew the rug over the crack at the bottom. We forgot that light might also shine through the crack at the top. Then Sally lighted her prized candelabra and set it on the floor in the middle of a big paper table cloth. Oh, baby, it makes me hungry now to think of that spread. Say, Babs, do you remember how tender and juicy that turkey was? Yum! And those cranberries?â Megsy and Barbara nodded. Virginia smiled. âIâve read boarding school stories,â she said, âand there was always some such prank. I suppose that just as the feast was about to be eaten, there came a knock on the door andââ But Betsy shook her head. âNo, not that soon, thanks be. We had the turkey devoured even to the bones and were starting on the dessert, when Sally happened to look up at the mantle. If there wasnât the kindly-faced old grandmother smiling down at us. For once Sally had forgotten to turn it over. Up she sprang and âDonald Dearâ beamed out. Then, to prove just how sentimental she really was, Sally lighted two tiny candles, one on either side of the frame. âHe certainly was a handsome chap, and we all talked about him as we ate the delicious pumpkin pie. We asked Sally where she had met him, how old he was and if she were going to marry him when she grew up. She said yes indeed, that they were engaged and that he just adored her. The only reason that he didnât write to her every day in the week was because pupils at Vine Haven werenât allowed to have letters from boys. Of course we knew that. Now I happened to remember something which was, that the first time that Sally had told me about Donald, she had said that he was a class-mate of a boy cousin and that she had met him at her auntâs summer home, but that night she told the girls that she had met Donald at a dance when she was visiting in Boston. Of course, being the daughter of the most famous detective that ever was, I noticed that discrepancy, though none of the other girls did, and I got suspicious at once. If Sally didnât know where she had met the handsome Donald (we all agreed he was that), the question was had she really met him at all? âHowever, I didnât want to spoil the spread by asking any embarrassing questions, but you know how tickled I was to have something to detect. Well, I was just eating my last luscious bite of mince pie when I pricked up an ear, so to speak. âHist!â I whispered, holding up one finger. âDidst hear a prowler?â The girls all sprang up on the alert. âOf course we expected Miss Snoopins to appear and were prepared for the worst.â The narrator paused to be sure that she had properly aroused the curiosity of her listeners, and then she continued: âThere was no mistaking the fact that there were footfalls without, then a voice said: âOpen the door, young ladies, if you please.â And it wasnât the voice of Miss Snoopins. It was no less a personage than Mrs. Martin who stood there when the door was opened. Sally had at once darted to the mantel to reverse the picture in the swinging frame, but we made no attempt to hide the feast. It just couldnât be done. My! but werenât we skeered! We were sure weâd all get our walking papers, but though Mrs. Martin delivered a short lecture on setting an example to younger girls, she said kindly: âThis was absolutely unnecessary, Sally, for you know I am always perfectly willing to permit you to share the box of good things that your mother sends you.â âMiss Snoopins, who of course had brought Mrs. Martin, stood back of our beloved principal and she fairly glared at us. One could plainly see that she was boiling within and more than ever wrathful because Mrs. Martin was not severe. Suddenly her X-ray glance, which had been sweeping over the floor with its evidences of guilt, chanced to fall upon the mantel. Into the room she strode, looking like a caricature in her flannel nightie, her skimpy kimona and her flapping bedroom slippers. Never before had her nose looked so long and peaked or her thin hair so tightly drawn back. When Sally saw the direction she was taking she looked, and to her horror she beheld that in her haste she had whirled the picture over twice, and that Donald dear was again smiling down upon the company. âMrs. Martin, having asked us to promise that we would obtain permission to have a feast, in the future, had retired and so she did not hear or see what followed. Miss Snoopinsâ green eyes fairly snapped. âSally MacLean, is that a boyâs picture?â she demanded. âThere being no answer needed, Sally gave none, but she felt like crying, she said, when the belligerent Buell snatched it from the back of the frame to which it had been pinned and tore it into shreds. Even the pieces she thrust into the pocket of her kimona. âOne hundred buttonholes in garments for the heathen,â she said in no quiet voice. In fact, all the girls on our corridor were awakened, and the first to thrust their heads in at the door were Dora and Cora Crowell, and werenât they mad when they saw that we had had a feast and that they werenât in on it, but they were all back in their rooms before Miss Snoopins left which she did after ordering us out and watching us go. âSally said she cried all night. She didnât care to live without a picture of her dear Donald. I said her cousin could send her another picture of his roommate, but she didnât reply. However, she looked so sort of queer that I was more than ever sure that she was just using her imagination. âNothing happened until Valentineâs day, and you remember, Megsy, that Mrs. Martin said that Benjy Wilson might bring over a few of his friends from the Drexel Military Academy to call and that one of the teachers, Miss King, if she were free, would act as chaperone. âThat was a great occasion for the girls. Mrs. Martin excused us from classes, as the calls were to be in the afternoon and Miss King took that opportunity to drill us in how to receive visitors. After half an hour of practice we skipped up to our rooms to get ready. We put on our prettiest white dresses with gay colored sashes. Margaret and Babs were to pour chocolate and Sally and I were to pass plates of wafers. This reception was for all of our sophomore and senior girls. Of course, Sentimental Sally was more excited than any of the rest of us, although we were all interested. It was a pleasant break in the monotony of school life. Eleanor Pettes had a single room at the front of the house last year, and just as we were all dressed and waiting for a signal to call us downstairs, Eleanor beckoned and we flocked to her room. âHere they come,â she whispered, as though they could hear, âand donât they look handsome, all of them in blue and gold dress uniforms.â âThey certainly did. There were about fifteen boys walking two by two with Sergeant Hinkle, one of the seniors, in charge. Sally had been at her mirror arranging her yellow curls in just the right places, and so she hadnât looked out the window, but she was ready a second later when Miss King appeared to lead us downstairs. âThe boys were standing about in the library looking at the books on the shelves or pretending to when we entered. Miss King spoke first with Sergeant Hinkle, and then we were all introduced in a rather general way, and we stood about talking in groups. I said to Sally: âThere are two boys over by the window and they look lonely. Letâs go and talk with them.â ââAll right,â Sally agreed, âyou lead the way.â âSally followed as I wedged through the groups, but when we got there we found only one boy who stood with his arms folded looking about the room with rather an amused expression on his really good-looking face. He turned toward us questioningly for Sally had uttered a little cry of amazement and had put her hand to her heart. âOf course, I had recognized the boy at once. He was Donald Dear! He looked at us pleasantly, even curiously, as he noted Sallyâs very evident agitation, but it was perfectly plain to me that he had never seen either of us before. ââWhat did Sally say?â Virginia inquired. ââShe didnât sayâshe bolted! She went up to her room and when the callers were gone I found her there in tears.â ââShe said that weâd all think she was a fibber, and thatâs what she really had been, for she hadnât the least idea who the boy was in the photograph. She just knew that he was a football player whose picture was among a lot that her cousin had brought home from school. She said she was just crazy about him and always would be.â ââDid Sally ever see him again?â Virg inquired. ââNo, I guess not. Benjy said that Donald Dearing went to France soon after that to be with his father, who was stationed there.â âMargaret looked meditatively into the fire. âIf only girls knew how much more boys like them when they are not sentimental,â she said, âthey would all try to be just good comrades.â ââSally didnât return to Vine Haven the next term,â Betsy continued. âHonestly, I felt sorry for her, and so I wrote her a Christmas letter and told her the girls didnât hold it against her because she had used her imagination. She was so happy to get that letter and she packed right up and came back to school.â ââPoor girl!â Virginia said kindly. âDo bring her to the meetings of The Adventure Club. Perhaps it will do her a lot of good. Donât you think so, everybody?â âBabs and Margaret nodded. âI always liked Sally, and Iâm pretty sure that she wonât be sentimental again,â Megsy replied.â A get-ready-for-bed gong was pealing through the corridors and the girls arose. âThis is Monday,â Babs announced. âIâm going to study like a good one, so Iâll know every question asked me at the Saturday Evening Review.â CHAPTER II SENTIMENTAL SALLY Sally MacLean entered Barbaraâs room almost shyly on the following Saturday evening. She was pleased because Betsy had invited her to attend The Adventure Clubâs first gathering, but remembering her humiliation of the year before, she was not sure how she would be received. But the old pupils acted just as though nothing had ever happened and Virginia welcomed Sally, whom she had not chanced to meet since her arrival, in her friendliest manner. âShall we begin the review at once?â the older girl asked. âOh, dear me, no!â Betsy protested. âIf this is going to be a club, letâs elect officers and frame rules, if thatâs what itâs called, and choose a motto anâ everything.â âI choose to be committee on refreshments,â Babs sang out. âI choose to be club detective,â Betsy put in. âI vote for Virginia for president,â Margaret said. âSecond it! Third it! Fourth it!â came a succession of merry voices. âWinona you may be secretary and Iâll be treasurer if there is to be anything to treasure.â Margaret happened to glance at the slight girl who sat somewhat in the shadow. âDraw your chair into the firelight, Sallykins,â she called pleasantly. âHow can you expect to be elected to an office if youâre out of sight.â The youngest member drew her chair forward, and when the flood of light from the student lamp fell upon her doll pretty face and her long yellow curls that hung to her waist, Virginia, for the first time, had a real opportunity to observe her. âPoor girl!â she thought. âShe has been too much petted and pampered by a rich mother, I guess, to develop any real character. How pretty she would be, with those dark blue eyes and long curling lashes, if her face wasnât so weak. Perhaps the club will be able to help her.â Virginiaâs meditations were interrupted by Margaret, who was asking, âEvery one of us is holding an office except Sally. What can she be?â âI choose her for my assistant,â Virg said. âWhizzle! What an honor! Sal, think of that for dizzy soaring. Up from the common ranks all in a jiff to vice president.â Sally flushed, looking prettier than before. âI never do know, Betsy,â she said feebly, âwhether youâre making fun or not.â Margaret intervened. âJust decide that she always is,â she suggested. âI never knew Betsy Clossen to be solemn.â âThen Mistress Megsy, youâre going to have a brand new experience, for I am going to be solemn five minutes by the clock.â Turning to Virginia she asked, her expression as big-eyed and serious as she could make it, âMadame President, we have two objects for this club, one to study and one to eat. We have each been appointed to an office of honor. It merely remains now for us to select a fitting motto.â Virginia smiled and the other girls laughed, but Betsy looked reproachfully from one to the other and they could not make her change her solemn expression. âEverybody think a moment,â Virg suggested, but almost at once Babs sprang up and clapped her hands. âI know where there are steens and steens of mottos, any one of them would do.â âWhere?â Megsy inquired. âOn my motto calendar. Iâll tell you what, Virg. You select a date and Iâll read the motto thatâs under it.â âWell, then, January fifteenth, which is today.â Barbara skipped to her birdâs-eye maple writing desk and read from the small pad calendar. âDo the work thatâs nearest, Though itâs dull at whiles. Helping when you meet them, Lame dogs over stiles.â Virginia smiled. âThatâs excellent,â she said, âand letâs begin to put it into effect. To do the work thatâs nearest, Babs, please hand me that pile of books yonder and Iâll begin the weekly review.â âOoh!â Betsy sank far down in her chair and looked so despondent that the others laughed. âLetâs get this part over as quickly as ever we can,â Barbara begged. âIâm almost famished for fudge.â The review that evening proved two things to the president of the club. One was that Barbara had really studied during the week that had just ended and her pretty flushed face and eager way of answering showed that at last she was really interested in learning. But when Sally was asked to repeat William Cullen Bryantâs âThanatopsis,â the poem that all of the girls in Miss Torrence classes were required to memorize soon or late, that doll-like little maid became so confused that Virginia quickly realized that she had no understanding of what the lines meant. âGirls,â Virginia said, looking at the others rather than at the embarrassed newcomer, âthere is only one real way to learn poetry, I think, and that is to first picture what it means. When we thoroughly understand the sentiment, we can far more easily memorize the words of the poem.â Then very kindly, âSally, what picture came to you when you recited the lines âTo him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings with a mild And healing sympathy that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.â There was an almost startled expression in the baby-blue eyes that turned toward the speaker. âWhy, I donât believe I saw any picture. I was just trying to remember how the words came.â Margaret spoke. âVirginia,â she said, âthose lines always mean one thing to me. When father died, I felt as though I could not stay in the house. The very walls oppressed me and so I ran away to a little woods that we owned and where father and I had often walked after mother left us. I had been sobbing for hours in my room and it was late afternoon when I reached the wood. I threw myself down on the moss near a little fern edged stream and though I cried at first, the gentle murmur of those great old trees seemed to soothe me and brought a peace and somehow I felt, that, though I could not see him, my dear father was still with me. Ever since then I have loved Thanatopsis and have better understood its meaning.â âToo, it is true that nature companions our happier moods with gladness and song,â Virginia said. âMany a time when I have felt joyous and have galloped on Comrade across the shining desert; the shout of the wind; the frolicking of the rabbits; the very mountain peaks seemed to be rejoicing with me. Nature truly is a wonderful companion.â Sally was listening with intelligent interest. âOh, I believe I could recite it now, Virginia. I think I understand better what it means.â And she did, no longer afraid. That ended the review for the evening and Betsy leaped up to pass the fudge and this time she generously turned the plate so that Babs would be obliged to take the piece that was nuttiest, it being nearest her. That night when Virginia and Winona had returned to their room, they stood for a few moments, after the lights had been put out, to gaze toward the ocean, over which hung one burning star that was much larger than any of the others. Its path of quivering gold led toward the shore. They had opened the window and they could hear the murmurous plash of the waves on the sand, for the tide was out, and the surf was not crashing against the cliffs. These two, who so loved and understood nature, were quiet for a time. Then Winona spoke. âVirg,â she said, âI have felt a strange stirring within of late. It isnât discontent, but a soul-voice is urging me to do something really worthwhile.â The light had been turned on again and the girls were preparing for bed. âWhat are you planning to do, Winona, that will be more worthwhile?â Virginia was sure that her Indian friend had not spoken without giving the matter long and earnest contemplation. âI do not feel that this school is just the place that I should be.â Then she hastily continued when she saw an expression of concern in the face of her dearly loved companion, âIâm not unhappy here, white Lily, but I seem to know that something else is waiting for me to do. I shall be ready when it comes.â They said no more that night as the last âlights-outâ bell was ringing and after that, silence in the rooms was the rule. Virginia lay awake a long time watching the star that hung like a lantern in the bit of dark blue of the sky that was framed in her window. Her thoughts were of Winona. How calm and strong she was. She would indeed be ready when the call came to do the worthwhile thing, whatever sacrifice might be required of her. CHAPTER III A SECRET ENEMY âHist. Virg, hold on a minute!â The tall slender girl warmly wrapped in hood and long cloak turned in surprise as she was about to enter the little pine wood, beyond which lay the cabin of her beloved teacher and friend Miss Torrence. She was indeed puzzled when she saw Betsy equally well protected from the sleet and snow arise from a clump of bushes near the path. âHow you startled me,â the older girl said, âwith that mysterious sounding âHistâ of yours. Do detectives always do that?â âI donât know,â Betsy confessed. âI never did hear my dad say it and heâs the only detective of my acquaintance.â Then stepping over a snow bank that she might stand in the shoveled path, she continued, âI wanted to waylay you. Iâve something to tell you. I really hate to. It sounds sort of sneaky, but we of The Adventure Club have just got to stand together and protect each other, havenât we, Madame President?â âWhy, yes. I think we should. What have you heard?â âWell, I didnât have much of anything to do this morning, being as itâs Saturday and I thought Iâd go up to the Tower Room thatâs been vacant since Gwendolyn Laureat went away before Christmas. I never will know why I stole up those stairs as quietly as ever I could, unless itâs because sleuths in the movies always do steal about that way. When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw that the door was closed. There was nothing particularly strange about that, but, just as I had my hand on the knob to turn it, I heard voices inside. I tell you, it gave me a start! I remembered all the stories about that room being haunted and I was just about to dart away when I recognized one of the voices. The speaker stood so close to the door I could hear what she said. It was Kathryn Von Wellering and from what she was saying I knew that she is your enemy.â âMy enemy?â Virginia exclaimed in surprise. âWhy, what have I done to make Miss Von Wellering dislike me? All of the girls in that âExclusive Threeâ group have failed to know that I exist.â Betsy looked wise. âDonât you remember that your story was voted first place in last termâs contest and that her story came out third? She had boasted about among her set that she would be the next Editress of The Manuscript Magazine and she isnât used to not having what she wants.â âOh, thatâs it. But what can she do?â âWhat I heard her say was that she was going to see to it that the first copy of the magazine was such a failure that Miss Torrence would gladly appoint her as Editor.â Virginia looked troubled. âIâm truly sorry about this. I never did want the position and if Miss Von Wellering really wants it, I shall be glad to give it to her.â âWell, youâll freeze, Virg, if I keep you standing out in this snowstorm any longer, but I just want to tell you that I heard one of the three say that you would find, at the last minute, that your own story was the only usable contribution that you would receive.â âWhy, that canât be possible. Miss Torrence told me this very morning that she would have a short story by Anne Peterson and a poem by Belle Wiley to give me before the Manuscript Magazine is made up.â âIt certainly is too bad that Eleanor Pettes decided to go to college prep this term instead of coming here,â Virginia sighed. âShe would know just what to do.â Then, brightly, âBut I must hurry along. It was lucky that I started earlier than usual for Pine Cabin or I would be dolefully late.â âIâll keep my eyes and ears open,â Betsy promised as she began to walk backwards toward the school. âBut donât give up the ship, Virg. Stick at your post and weâll back you. Whizzle, Iâll write a story myself or a poem, even, if you run short of material.â Then, turning, she started to run, while Virginia continued on her way smiling, as she thought of what the Manuscript Magazine would be, if Betsy Clossen tried to write for it. Betsyâs forte most certainly was not composition. When Virg entered the Pine Cabin whither she had gone alone to discuss the first edition of The Monthly Magazine, which had been Miss Torrenceâs pet hobby since she first began to teach at Vine Haven, the girl noted a perplexed expression in the eyes of her friend and teacher as she looked up from her desk that was scattered over with papers. âVirginia,â Miss Torrence began at once, âI cannot understand in the least what has happened. The story and poem that have been handed in by Anne Petersen and Belle Wiley are not fit to use. They never before did such poor work. In fact, these contributions do not sound at all like their style of composition. I was particularly anxious to have our January Manuscript Magazine an excellent one as Dean Craig of the Drexel Academy was asking me about the plan and requested that he might see our January number. He may start a similar magazine in his English classes. We surely canât use work as poor as this and there remains but one week in which to find a really excellent short story. Kathryn Von Wellering has withdrawn her story saying that it cannot be used unless she is given the position of editor.â âIâd be glad to let her have it,â Virg said, but Miss Torrence shook her head. âCharacter as well as literary ability are taken into consideration when we appoint a girl at Vine Haven to a post of honor, and Kathrynâs influence is not of the best. Well, we have a week to try to unearth a worthwhile story.â Virginia soon left, wondering where a story was to be found. Virg thought often that snowy Saturday about what both Miss Torrence and Betsy Clossen had told her. It was hard to believe that she had a real enemy, she who had befriended everything that lived and who felt kindly toward all. âVirg, I believe that you actually would give up the post of honor that you have won,â Margaret declared that evening as she prepared for a second meeting of The Adventure Club. âWhy not?â the girl addressed glanced up brightly. âIt was an honor thrust upon me, not one that I coveted. It isnât bringing me any great happiness and it has brought me an enemy. Who will, may have it, or, I mean, could-if it were within my power to dispose of it, but Miss Torrence has expressed her desire that I retain the position whether or not we receive contributions considered worthy of acceptance.â âBetsy declares that she is going to submit a poem.â This from Sally who was less timid than she had been at a previous meeting. Then she tittered in a way which made her seem even more foolish than she really was. âThatâs why sheâs late. Sheâs sitting curled up in our room writing it now.â âThe Fates deliver us from any poetry that Betsy might write,â Margaret had just said when there came a pounding on the door, and, clad in her cherry-red bath robe, the object of their conversation burst into the room waving a sheet of foolscap paper. âItâs done! The day is saved. Never before will there have been an edition of The Manuscript Magazine to contain a literary gem like this.â The other members of the study club looked at each other in mock despair. âMust we endure the torture?â Babs moaned. âGet it over with as soon as you possibly can, if it must be done,â Margaret pleaded. Virginia interposed. âGirls, how dreadful of you! It might be good.â Betsy solemnly bowed, her hand on her heart. âLady, I thank you for them kind words,â she said. Then looking about the room, she inquired, âWhereâll be the most effective place to stand?â âIâd keep real close to the door if I were you,â Barbara suggested. âThanks, I will, though I wonât mind at all if you do pelt me with fudge.â âIndeed, not a piece shall you get unless your poetry pleases us,â threatened Margaret. Babs hastened to add, âI choose Betsyâs portion for itâs a foregone conclusion that she wonât get any.â âSilence, young ladies, IF you please.â This in exact imitation of Miss Kingâs voice and manner. Then making another elaborate bow, Betsy began to read: âThere is a young lady named Virg. Who said Life is surely a scourge. Iâm so witty and wise That I must editrize Though Iâd heaps rather be hearing my dirge.â The listeners laughed while Babs clapped with her thumbnails only. âThereâs a senorita, named Marguerita And Oh-a but sheâs vera sweeta. Her prida brought to her a fall Once in a thronged study hall. Her prida were her high-heeled feet-a. There is a young damsel named Babs With manners most shocking. She grabs! Whenever thereâs candy Thatâs anywhere handy, The nuttiest pieces she nabs. There is a fair maiden named Sally Who lives in our Sweet Pickle Alley. In front of a mirror You oftenest see her Whenever she has time to dally. There is a most witty young poet Named Betsy, and Iâm sure you know it. She can tell by your glances, As you listen in trances, With a bouquet, just waiting to throw it.â Betsy ducked just in time for soft pillows snatched from the window seat were hurled at her. Laughingly she gathered them up and replaced them in a prim row, then she sank down among them as though exhausted. âBelieve me, thatâs the hardest work Iâve done in my short lifetime. Iâd heaps rather shovel coal for a living. I thought I could never think of a word to rhyme with Sally. Luckily we call our corridor Sweet Pickle Alley. That helped some!â Then she interrupted herself to point an accusing finger. âQuick! Look! Caught in the act. Wasnât I right about Babs? It isnât yet time to pass the fudge and there she is helping herself to the very piece that I had intended to take, because itâs so bulging full of nuts.â Barbara sprang up, passed the plate and insisted that Betsy take the nutty piece. Then, as they munched, Margaret said, âIâll never forget the day I wore those high-heeled slippers. Wasnât I embarrassed, it being a reception for patrons and parents? Common sense heels for me.â The president of The Adventure Club tapped upon the table with her pencil. âAttention, if you please, young ladies,â she said, âthere is a matter of importance to be discussed.â The girls looked up wonderingly. âCan you all keep a secret?â Virg asked mysteriously. âWhy, of course we can.â This protestingly from Margaret. âWhizzle, what a kweestion? A bottomless well couldnât be more secretive than I am if I give my word.â Betsy held up her right hand as though taking a vow. âIt wonât be hard for me to keep it if I can talk it over with you girls,â Barbara told them. To the surprise of the others Sally rose. âIâd rather not try,â she said, speaking more seriously than usual. âIf it leaks out, youâd be sure to think I told, so, if youâll excuse me, Iâd rather not know it.â Virginia rose and placing an arm about the slender girl who had her hand on the door knob, she led her back to the group. âSally,â she said kindly, âI am sure that you will keep this secret.â The pretty face of the youngest girl glowed with happiness and pride. It was the first time since she had been in that seminary that someone had expressed faith in her. Many a time she had seen groups of girls stop their chattering when she neared and she had felt left out. âThey think Iâd tell what theyâre saying, I suppose,â had been her unhappy conclusion, as she wandered away by herself feeling so alone and unwanted. But this wonderful girl, who was not only president of this little club but also editor of The Manuscript Magazine, actually wanted her to stay and share a real secret. Sally vowed within herself that Virginia would find her worthy of the trust. âWeâre all bristling with curiosity, as a porcupine was heard to remark,â Betsy said. âWhat kind of a secret is it?â Virginia smiled at the mischievous would-be detective, as she replied: âIt isnât anything that will interest you greatly. Yesterday Mrs. Martin sent for me and asked if we girls from the West knew someone who would appreciate a term at Vine Haven as guest. Now that Gwendolyn Laureat has gone, the Tower Room is vacant. I do not know of anyone, but I said that I would ask my closest friends if she wished. Mrs. Martin agreed, but requested that we tell no one else as she never wished the identity of the guest pupil to be generally known.â The girls were silent for a moment thinking over their friends and acquaintances but finally they shook their heads. âItâs just too bad,â Margaret said, âIâm ever so sure there must be some talented girl who would love to have the advantages that this school offers andââ âSuch as the refining influence of the members of The Adventure Club,â put in Betsy with a twinkle. âIâll undertake teaching her up-to-the-minute slang.â Megsy, not heeding the interruption, continued, âand if The Exclusive Three did not know her identity, she ought to be very happy here.â âWoe to her if they do find it out,â Barbara commented. âShe might as well pack up and leave that very day.â âWell, since there is no one whom we can suggest, we ourselves will not know who the guest pupil is, as, of course, Mrs. Martin has many sources to draw upon. Boston is full of girls, poor, but talented.â âNow, letâs have our weekly lesson review.â Virginia picked up an Ancient History and in the midst of moans and groans asked the first question. âBabs, youâre improving by the minute,â was Margaretâs comment when the get-ready-for-bed gong pealed through the corridors. âThanks, greatly! I mean to be a âShining Lightâ on the spring exams.â âWouldnât you faint right on the spot if you ever saw your name on the Honor Roll board down in the main corridor?â Megsy asked. âWould she? Iâll tell the world!â Betsy answered for her. Then teasingly, âHonestly girls, you may find this hard to believe but I actually saw Babs stop in front of that popular black board every day last week to see if her name is there yet.â Barbara flushed but spunkily protested, âI donât care if I did. Now that Virg and Margaret are on it, I mean to be, too, if I possibly can.â âWell, you neednât bite my head off. Sally and I wouldnât be on it, if we could.â Then Sally surprised them all by saying, âNow that Virginiaâs name is there, Iâd like ever so much to get my name on it, too.â âHowâs that for idolatry?â Betsy began to tease, but Virginia remarked seriously, âSally, your hardest subject seems to be algebra. Iâll help you, if you wish to study after hours just as Miss Torrence helps me.â âWhee-gee!â Betsy whistled. âIf Sally MacLean gets her name on the Honor Roll, itâs me as will faint and I donât think Iâll ever come to.â When the girls were gone, and the lights had been turned out, Margaret exclaimed, âOh, Virg, see how beautiful the snowy world is in the moonlight. Iâm so glad that Monday is a holiday. Letâs go for a hike if Mrs. Martin will permit. I just adore wading through snow-drifts.â âThat would be a great adventure and a new one for me,â said the girl from the desert where snow-drifts are unknown. They were indeed to have an adventure. CHAPTER IV THE FIRST ADVENTURE âA whole holiday and every hour of it free. I feel like some caged bird let loose,â Margaret exclaimed as the five girls from Vine Haven Seminary started away from the school. All were clad in their warmest coats, with leggings, mittens and flying scarfs to match the bright tams that perched jauntily atop of their heads. âAnd to think that we may hike wherever we wish, on only one condition, and that to report to Mrs. Martin half an hour before lunch,â Barbara chattered. Virginia laughed. âOne might think it the greatest kind of a lark just to go outside of the gate,â she said. âI can understand it now, but when I remember how I have galloped all over the desert for miles without thought of keeping within certain boundaries, I donât wonder that we feel like caged birds.â âSnow birds, then,â Betsyâs merry face beamed out from beneath her cherry colored tam. âSally surely is. I just adore those white furs. You look like a princess, Sal, stepped out of a fairy book with your golden curls hanging like a mantle about your shoulders.â The others laughed. âBetsy, you arenât going to burst out into poetry again, are you?â âNot guilty!â that merry maid replied. Then pausing to look about she inquired. âWhich way shall we go in search of adventure? Behind us is the sea. The wind is too icily cold to go in that direction. Down below us is the village and beyond thatâwhat?â âLetâs go and find out. Have we time?â Margaret consulted her wrist watch. âTime to burn,â she announced. âItâs only eight-thirty. Iâve walked to the village in half an hour often.â âYes, my dear, so you have, but that was in the good old summer time. Youâve never waded through drifts on an unbroken road and made that speed,â Betsy told her, and Megsy agreed. âWell, count an hour to reach the village. Another hour to see what lies beyond, and a third to return, and loâthat brings us back just on schedule, thirty minutes before noon.â âIâll tell you what,â Virginia said brightly, âletâs go as far as we can in half of our time and return on the other half. But that wouldnât do, either,â she hastened to make the correction, âfor itâs down hill going and up hill coming back.â âWell, the sooner we get started the sooner weâll return,â Barbara said wisely, âand we can talk as we walk.â Away they went, Betsy and Babs in the lead, Virginia, Megsy and Sally following single file. As they neared the top of the hill road, they heard merry shouts and Betsy, having first reached the crest where she could look over, turned and beckoned excitedly. âQuick! There are a lot of youngsters here sliding down the hill, Theyâve got a whopper of a toboggan. Itâs long enough to take us all on. Canât we bribe them to coast us down the hill? Then weâll be that much nearer the town.â âThatâs a spiffy idea,â Babs sang out. âI brought my purse. Suppose I offer them five cents for each passenger.â âWeâll make it up to you, old dear,â Betsy told her, then she beckoned to a boy of about fourteen who had been whirling the long toboggan into place on the well trodden starting point. âHow much will you
{'title': "Virginia's Adventure Club by Grace May North", 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}