The Outdoor Girls in the Saddle Part 1

The Outdoor Girls in the Saddle.

by Laura Lee Hope.

CHAPTER I

A SUMMER IN THE SADDLE

"h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo! Oh, what is the matter with central!"

The dark-haired, pink-cheeked girl at the telephone jiggled the receiver impatiently while a straight line of impatience marred her pretty mouth.

"Oh dear, oh dear!"

"At last! Is that you, Mollie Billette? I've been trying to get you for the last half hour. What's that? You've been home all morning twiddling your thumbs and wondering what to do with yourself? Of course! I knew it was central's fault all the time! Now listen! Goodness, what are you having over at your house? A jazz dance or something? I can hardly hear you speak for the noise."

"No, it isn't a dance," came back Mollie's voice wearily from the other end of the wire. "It's just the twins. They want to talk to you. Hold the wire a minute while I shut them in the other room."

Followed a silence during which Betty Nelson could distinctly hear the wails of Mollie's little brother and sister as they were ushered forcibly into an adjoining room. Then Mollie's voice again at the phone.

"h.e.l.lo," she said. "Still there, Betty? Guess I can hear you a little better now. Mother's out, and I've been taking care of the twins. Just rescued the cat from being dumped head down in the flour barrel."

"Sounds natural," laughed the dark-haired, pink-cheeked one, as she visualized Mollie's little brother and sister, Dodo and Paul. They were twins, and always in trouble.

"Anything special you called up about?" asked Mollie's voice from the other end of the wire. "Want to go for a ride or something?"

"Not the kind of ride you mean," said the brown-eyed, pink-cheeked one, with a knowing little smile on her lips.

At the lilt in her voice Mollie, at her end of the wire, sat up and stared inquiringly into the black mouth of the telephone.

"Betty," she said hopefully, "you are hiding something from me. You have something up your sleeve."

"You're right and wrong," giggled Betty. "I'm hiding something from you, but I can't get it up my sleeve, it's too big!"

"Hurry up!" commanded Mollie in terrific accents. "Are you going to tell me what's on your mind, Betty Nelson?"

"When will you be around?" countered Betty.

"In five minutes."

"Good!"

"Betty, wait! Is it good news?"

"The best ever," and Betty rang off.

She twinkled at the telephone for a minute, then called another number.

"That you, Gracie?"

The fair-haired, tall, and very graceful girl at the other end of the wire acknowledged that it was.

"Please suggest something interesting, Betty," she added plaintively, as she took a chocolate from the ever-present candy box and nibbled on it discontentedly. "I woke up with the most awful attack of the blues this morning."

"What, with a whole summer full of blessed idleness before you?" mocked Betty.

"Too much idleness," grumbled Grace. "That's the trouble."

"Enter," said Betty drolly, "Doctor Elizabeth Nelson."

Grace digested this remark for a moment, staring at the telephone in much the same manner as Mollie had done a few minutes before. Then she swallowed the last of her chocolate in such haste that it almost choked her.

"Betty," she said, "I have heard you use that tone before. Is there really something in the wind?"

"Come and see," said Betty and a click at the other end of the wire told Grace that the conversation was over.

"Oh bother!" she cried, her pretty forehead drawn into a frown. "Now I suppose I've got to get dressed and go over there before I can find out what she meant."

In the hall she nearly ran into her mother, who was dressed to go out.

Mrs. Ford was a handsome woman, prominent in the social circles of Deepdale. She was kindly and sympathetic, and all who knew her loved her.

So now, as she regarded her mother, a loving smile erased the frown from Grace's forehead.

"I declare, Mother, you look younger than I do," she said fondly.

"Whither away so early?"

"The art club, this morning," replied Mrs. Ford, her eyes approving the fair prettiness of her daughter. "Are you going out? I thought you were deep in that new book."

"I was," said Grace, with a sigh for what might have been. "But Betty called up and said she wanted me to come over. There's something in the wind, that's sure, but she wouldn't give me even the teeniest little hint of what it was. I wasn't going at first, but I----"

"Thought better of it," finished Mrs. Ford, with a smile. "Better go,"

she added, as she opened the door. "My experience with Betty Nelson is that she usually has something interesting to say. Good-by, dear. If any one should 'phone while you are here, will you tell them that I shan't be back till late afternoon?"

Grace promised that she would and moved slowly up the stairs.

Meanwhile Amy Blackford, the last of the trio to whom the dark-haired, pink-cheeked little person who was Betty Nelson had telephoned, had stopped merely to remove the ap.r.o.n from in front of her pink-checked gingham dress and was now flying along the two short blocks that separated her house from the Nelsons'.

As for poor Mollie Billette, she was nearly distracted. Torn with curiosity, as that young person very often was, to know the facts that had prompted Betty's early call, she yet could not satisfy that curiosity. When she had told Betty that she would be around in five minutes she had fully meant to make that promise good. But--she had forgotten the twins!

Upon entering the room where she had locked them while she talked to Betty, she found a sight that fairly took her breath away.

Unfortunately, some one had left an open bottle of ink on the table. One of the twins, deciding to play "savages," had pounced upon the ink bottle as a means of making the play more realistic!

"Oh, Dodo! Oh, Paul! How could you be so naughty?" moaned Mollie, sinking to the floor, while the tears of exasperation rolled down her face.

"Paul did it," accused Dodo, waving a pudgy, ink-stained little fist in the direction of her brother. "He said, 'let's use this ink and play we're savagers----'"

It was upon this scene that Mollie's little French-American mother, Mrs.