The Girl from Arizona Part 19

"Well, she's all right anyway," maintained Percy. "I only wish I'd known about her in time to get another ticket for the game last Sat.u.r.day. But she went with some other friends, didn't she?"

"Oh, yes, she went," said Elsie, with a rather sarcastic smile. "She got some people at the hotel to take her in their car. You needn't worry about Marjorie; she knows how to take care of herself."

Elsie spent another hour in her room on Friday morning, and was so cross and disagreeable at luncheon, that Marjorie wondered more and more what the matter could possibly be. But in the afternoon Elsie cheered up, and her cousin came to the conclusion that whatever the trouble had been, it was evidently over.

The meeting was to begin at eight o'clock, so immediately after an early dinner, the two girls, accompanied as usual by Hortense, started in the carriage for Lulu's home, which was on Madison Avenue, only a few blocks away.

Lulu was a charming little hostess, and gave her friends a cordial greeting, explaining that her mother and aunt would come down later, but it had been a stipulation with some of the Club members that n.o.body grown up was to hear the poems or take part in the initiation. Several of Miss Lothrop's girls had already arrived, and there were also present a few more young people, particular friends of Lulu's, who had been invited to join the Club.

"I want you to meet my friend, Betty Randall," Lulu said to Marjorie, as Elsie turned away to speak to other friends. "She's English, and just as nice as can be. She and her mother and brother are visiting us. She can't be a member, because they are all going back to England next week, but she and Jack are the special guests of the evening, and they are both to be allowed to vote on the poems."

Betty Randall was a quiet, sweet-faced girl of fifteen, and Marjorie liked her at once.

"Have you been in this country long?" she asked, when Lulu had left them together, and gone to greet other arriving guests. She could not help feeling a good deal interested in meeting "a real English girl."

"Only since September," Betty answered, "but we used to live in New York. My mother is English, but she and my father came to this country when they were married, and my brother and I were both born in New York.

We lived here until four years ago, when my uncle took us back to England to live with him."

"I should think it would be wonderfully interesting to live in England,"

said Marjorie. "I suppose of course you have been in London, and seen the Tower and Westminster Abbey?"

"Oh, yes," said Betty, smiling. "One of my uncle's places is quite near London, and we often motor into town. I like America, though; it always seems more like home. Do you know the names of all these girls?"

"I know most of them; we go to the same school, but I haven't been in New York nearly as long as you have. My home is in Arizona, and I have only come here to spend the winter, and go to school with my cousin."

Betty looked a little disappointed.

"Then I suppose you can't tell me something I want to know very much,"

she said. "Lulu told me Dr. Randolph's nephew was to be here, and I do want to see him."

"Oh, I can point him out to you," said Marjorie. "He lives at the Plaza, where my uncle has an apartment, and Elsie and I know him very well.

There he is, that tall boy, who has just come in. Isn't he handsome?"

"Yes, very," agreed Betty, regarding the new arrival with considerable interest. "I never met him, but his uncle was such a good friend to us once."

"I know Dr. Randolph, too," said Marjorie; "he took us to New Haven in his car to see the game last Sat.u.r.day. He is very kind."

"Kind!" repeated Betty, with s.h.i.+ning eyes; "he is more than kind, he is wonderful. He cured my brother, and made him walk, when he had been a cripple all his life."

Marjorie gave a little gasp, and some of the color went out of her face.

"Tell me about it," she said, clasping her hands, and regarding her new acquaintance with such an eager expression in her eyes, that Betty was quite startled.

"It was before we went back to England," she said. "We were living here in New York, and Winifred Hamilton and her father and mother had an apartment in the same house. My mother was taken very ill, and Winifred went for Lulu Bell's father, whom you know is a doctor. He was very good to us, and while attending mother he became very much interested in my brother, who was nine years old then, and had never walked a step since he was born. He brought Dr. Randolph to see Jack, and he felt sure something could be done for him, and persuaded Mother to let him be taken to a hospital. Mother consented, and Dr. Randolph performed a wonderful operation."

"And does your brother walk now?" Marjorie asked almost breathlessly.

"There he is," said Betty, smiling, and pointing to a tall boy of thirteen, who was standing near the door, talking to Winifred Hamilton.

"You would never believe that he was a helpless cripple only four years ago, would you?" she added proudly.

"No, indeed," said Marjorie; "it seems very wonderful. Do you suppose Dr. Randolph often performs such operations?"

"I think so. Dr. Bell says he is one of the finest surgeons in the country. Why are you so much interested? Do you know some one who is a cripple, too?"

"Yes," said Marjorie, with a sigh. "It's my aunt; she had a terrible accident eight years ago, and has never walked since. But she is away in Arizona; we could never ask Dr. Randolph to go all that distance to see her."

"No, I suppose not," Betty admitted regretfully, "but couldn't your aunt be brought here to him? I know people come from all parts of the country to consult him. There was a little girl at the hospital when Jack was there, who had been brought all the way from Texas."

Marjorie thought of the long three-days journey, and of her father's desperate struggle to make both ends meet, but before she could answer, Lulu, as mistress of ceremonies--rapped sharply on the table, and the Club was called to order.

CHAPTER XV

ELSIE TRIUMPHS

"LADIES and gentlemen," began Lulu, speaking in the tone she had heard her mother use when conducting a meeting of a charitable board of which she was president, "I think every one is now here, and I must request you all please to keep quiet during the reading of the poems. After the reading, votes will be taken as to the best poem, and the girl who gets the most votes will be elected president of this Club. The boys are particularly requested not to laugh at any of the poems. The first to be read is by Miss Winifred Hamilton, and is called 'Ria and the Bear.'

Miss Hamilton wishes me to explain that she has never heard the name Ria, but chose it because it was the only word she could think of that rhymed with fear."

There was a general t.i.tter from the audience, followed by a burst of applause, as Winifred, very red, and looking as if she were being led to execution, rose and announced:

"It's perfectly awful, but it's the first poem I ever wrote in my life, and I want to say that I sha'n't be in the least offended if everybody laughs." Then, unfolding a small sheet of paper, she began to read very fast.

"RIA AND THE BEAR.

"The sky was of the darkest hue, The gra.s.s beneath was wet with dew, And through the trees the wind did howl, Causing the hungry bears to growl.

"All were protected from the storm, All but one wee, s.h.i.+vering form, She stood beneath an old elm tree, The boughs of which from leaves were free.

"A big bear darted through the wood, His instinct told him where she stood.

Soon the monster came close to Ria, But the child showed no sign of fear.

"As the big bear drew very close, She gave a pat to his cold nose, At this touch the bear did cease to growl, And for response a joyful howl.

"Then these two friends lay down together, Quite heedless of the raging weather, Upon the hard and frozen ground, The two friends slept, both very sound.

"But one of the two never awoke; Long, long after the wind storm broke, She was discovered lying there, Where she had died beside the bear."

"Bravo! Winifred, that's fine!" shouted Jack Randall, and then followed a shout of laughter, in which everybody joined, Winifred herself as heartily as any of the others.

"I told you it was awful," she said between gasps, "but Lulu said no one could be a member who didn't write a poem, so I had to do my best."

"I should die of mortification if I were laughed at like that,"

whispered Elsie to Carol, who sat next to her. To which her friend replied sympathetically:

"Of course you would, but then everybody isn't a genius like you."