Captain Becky's masquerade

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I A Letter from Lucile 7

II Becky Takes a Journey 20

Chapter I

‘ ‘ Marjorie ! Postman ’s coming ! 1 1

‘ 6 Right down, mother dear.”

And right down she was, dancing into the library where her mother sat peering out of the bay window. Clasping an arm around her daughter^ waist, Mrs. Beckwith glanced at Marjorie with happy content in her eyes. A very different Marjorie this was from the thin, weakly girl who had departed for Florida the preceding winter! Now her cheeks were flushed with health and the sheer happiness of living. But her face had not lost that delicacy of contour that was its greatest charm, and which was accentuated by the goldenbrown hair that rippled over her forehead.

i ‘ Here he is !”

Marjorie darted to the front door, greeted the postman with a cheery ‘ ‘ Good morning ! ’ ’ and returned to the library with three letters in her 7 hand. Glancing quickly at the superscriptions, she handed one to her mother and laid the second aside, while she began to turn the third over and over in her hands.

‘ 4 There’s a letter from Mrs. Hatton to you,” she exclaimed, “and one from Lucile to me. And I haven’t replied to her last one yet! I wonder where she is! The postmark shows some place up in New Hampshire ”

“Perhaps you had better open it and see,” smiled Mrs. Beckwith, who was already unfolding Mrs. Hatton’s letter. “How about the other one ? ’ ’

“Oh, just a note from Schuyler,” replied Marjorie carelessly. “He’s at school in New Jersey, you know.”

With that she followed her mother’s advice and opened the letter from Lucile. A few months before this Marjorie had quit school and left Chicago for a visit with her aunt in Florida. While there she had met the Egbert Hattons, of whom the mother, son and two daughters, a prominent eastern family, were spending a few weeks in Florida. Marjorie had a natural feeling of independence and, as her father was not rich and was just at that time under a financial strain, she had resolved to pay her own expenses and make a little money besides, if it were possible to do so.

Accordingly, far from leading the humdrum hotel life with her aunt which she had looked forward to, Marjorie had chartered a small schooner and had taken the Egbert Hattons on a cruise of several weeks on the Indian River. They had met with many adventures, which have been described in another place, Marjorie had been well recompensed by the wealthy easterners and, better than all, she had found in them warm and very real friends.

“Oh, mother !” broke out Marjorie as she scanned her four pages scrawled over in the fashionable large writing of Lucile Hatton, “guess what ”

“Wait a moment,” smiled her mother, who was absorbed in her own letter ; 4 4 Mrs. Hatton is writing to me about it too.”

“It sounds too good to be really true,” sighed the girl as she laid down the letter. With her hands in her lap she stared out the window dreamily. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were tinged with more color than usual as she pictured to herself what those letters might mean to her.

Lucile Hatton was a few months younger than Marjorie but her more extended social life and her father’s great wealth had made her in some ways much older than the Chicago girl. Despite Lucile ’s one-time tendency toward snobbishness,

Marjorie liked her, and Lncile fully reciprocated the feeling. Then there was keen-eyed, genial Mr. Hatton; his wife, who was not unlike Marjorie’s own mother ; Schuyler, a year older than Lucile ; and finally little Ruth, who was only ten, but who had adopted “Captain Becky” as her particular chum and confidant.

“Well, what do you think of it, mother!” asked Marjorie as Mrs. Beckwith laid down the letter. “Isn’t it just too splendid for anything!”

“Indeed it is! I’m so glad, dear! And Mrs. Hatton is really sincere, too. What does Lucile say!”

“Here, we’ll trade letters. But I know it’s too good to be true, mother ! Oh, dear, if only I could go and take you with me — away from this hot old place ! ’ ’

Mrs. Beckwith smiled in response as she took Lucile ’s letter and held it up. The Hattons had nicknamed Marjorie “Captain Becky,” and so Lucile addressed her. After a few inconsequential lines the letter read :

“But here’s what I want to say, Becky dear. We’re all up here in New Hampshire at father’s new cottage — that is, all except Schuyler. He’ll be here next week when school is out. It ’s simply heavenly up here among the mountains! We’ve got heaps of ponies and a race track, and Snnapee Lake is only ten miles away and — Oh, ever so many things!

“Now listen hard! It’s the end of June now; why can’t you come and spend August with us? We have plenty of room; there’ll be a crowd over at the lake and a lot of our friends have farms and cottages all around here. I’ve just been talking to mother about it and she’s simply wild to have you. So is Ruth. Say you will, Becky!

“Mother is going to write to your mother to-day, and I know she’ll not object. Clothes don’t matter a bit up here, so bring your oldest. We’ll go riding and motoring and do everything we can think of — and the farm is a perfect dear! You’ll fall in love with it right away.”

4 ‘ She writes a very nice letter, dear, ’ ’ remarked Mrs. Beckwith, returning the pages to Marjorie. “It’s a splendid opportunity for you, and the mountain air will do you a great deal of good. You’ve been working pretty hard since you got home from Florida and a month away from everything ”

“But, mother!” broke in Marjorie, suddenly. “I know it’s perfectly lovely, but how can I go? I’d have to have dresses, and the bare railroad fare would be so much — we just can’t do it, mother ! ’ ’

Mrs. Beckwith arose and, standing beside her daughter, again slipped an arm around the latter ’s waist.

“Come, little girl, don’t be foolish!” she said. “The Hattons know you and like you and that is quite enough. They know perfectly well that you can’t afford to dress like Lucile and they won’t expect it. What is it Mrs. Hatton says?” She picked up the letter from Lucile ’s mother and read the last paragraph to Marjorie.

“And don’t let Becky worry about clothes, please ! We all live very simply here at the farm. The young people have dances and parties occasionally but there is nothing formal at all. We practically live outdoors all the time and enjoy every minute of it. We all look forward to having your daughter spend a few weeks with us and I am sure she would enjoy herself. So she must not disappoint us!”

“That’s all very well,” replied Marjorie after a minute. “But if you only knew how Lucile dresses, and Mrs. Hatton herself! I haven’t a single dress that would do for one of their dances, I know ! ’ ’

“Perhaps not, dear. But if they are the right kind of people they won’t care about that. They know that you can at least afford to look neat and clean, whether you can afford to wear hand-embroidered waists or not. Mrs. Hatton didn’t say that, of course, but she implied it very clearly and sensibly, I think. No, they want you, and not your dresses, Marjorie. But we’ll not discuss this just now; wait till father comes home to-night and we can talk it all over quietly and comfortably. He used to live somewhere in New Hampshire when he was a boy, so he ’ll know what it ’s like. ’ ’

4 4 All right, mother!” laughed Marjorie, with one of her sudden changes of mood, as she kissed her and caught up the letter from Schuyler, “I’ll forget all about it until to-night!”

She ran upstairs to her own room, which was small but kept with her accustomed neatness. Taking a hairpin from her dresser she quickly opened the envelope and drew out the letter.

4 ‘ Dear Cap, ’ ’ she read with a smile, ‘ 4 * 6 1 was awfully glad to get your note! Why don’t you write me a real letter sometime? You haven’t got anything to do except read books and sew and I think you might write more than just a few lines ! I ’m mighty glad you don ’t talk about clothes like most girls do” — here Becky’s brow clouded for an instant — “for every time I get a letter

from you I can see you standing at the wheel beside Captain Sam, while the good old Olivette

slaps along. Say, we certainly had a dandy time down there, all right! Going back next winter?

“School’s over this week. Three more exams, then I’ll dig out and join the folks up at dad’s farm. I suppose Lucile gives you all the news, though! Dad’s got a new cottage. He’s taken up the big car, and my chum, Billy Dustin, is going to his folks’ place at Lake Sunapee, near our place. Billy’s got a peach of a motor boat, Cap ! Wish you were going to take command of her!

“Well, write me a good one next time, will you? Tell me all about what you’re going to do this summer. Don’t you want a good first mate for next winter’s cruise?

“Yours truly,

“Schuyler Hatton.”

Marjorie tucked away the letter in the “correspondence drawer” of her dresser, then pulled out the three lower drawers. First pinning up a stray lock of hair, she leaned over and made a critical examination of the contents of the drawers.

“You’re too old,” she decided, “and you’re all patched to death, and you don’t fit well around the

neck. Now, you might do ” she held up a pretty

embroidered waist, inspected it, then slapped it

down in disgust “only you’re all stained with

sea-water. You’re a fine lot of dresses to go visiting among millionaires ! ’ ’ Becky slammed the drawers shut suddenly in vexation, caught sight of her flushed face in the glass and laughed at herself with a new light in her eyes.

4 4 1 don ’t care ! They know perfectly well that I have to work for a living and that I can’t afford to have dresses like Lucile has ! Maybe I won’t go at all, but if I do I’ll go just as they know me. And I won’t put on any airs, either!”

When Mr. Beckwith arrived home that evening he read the letters carefully at the supper-table. When they had adjourned to the library and had settled down for a comfortable discussion, he gave his opinion very decidedly.

“I think it’s the best thing that ever happened to you, Marjorie!” he said slowly, Mrs. Hatton’s letter in his hand. “ Their place is near Cornish Flats, in Sullivan County. It’s right near the Vermont line and I lived in East Cornish until I was sixteen, so I know the country. You’d never find a more interesting spot in a long time. Wild and rugged, with queer little old towns lost in

every valley, and houses that date back ”

“But I’m not thinking about the country, father!” protested Becky. “What worries me is visiting such wealthy people and the expense of it ! Why, I suppose that the ‘ cottage,’ as they call it, would be a regular palace to me!”

4 'No doubt it would,’ ’ nodded Mr. Beckwith. "But you can never gain anything worth while without paying for it, little girl. Look at old man Hobrough next door here. You can stick in one place all your life as he has done, know nothing except your own petty environment, never develop or broaden out a mite, and all because you’re afraid of investing a few dollars. You don’t want to come to be like that old chap, do you? I never knew you were stingy ”

"I’m not stingy,” laughed Marjorie, who knew that her father did not mean all he said. "The only question is — will it pay me?”

4 4 1 am sure it would, ’ ’ spoke up her mother decisively. 44 You’ll have a few weeks of very different life, my dear. You’re not the kind of girl to come back home discontented because you can’t have their luxuries all the time. If you were, I wouldn’t think of it for a minute. Yes, I feel sure it would be a good investment, as your father says.”

4 4 That’s what it is,” agreed Mr. Beckwith, 4 4 simply an investment. You have definitely decided, Marjorie, that you wish to be independent of my support. I appreciate that, for I think every girl should be able to support herself just as every boy should; but you’ve got to remember that in order to do so you must learn as much as possible of the world around you. This is a great chance for you to mix with a certain class of people whom you might not know otherwise. You’ll find plenty in them to like and plenty to dislike and you’ll come back very glad you went.

“ Besides, the trip itself will be well worth while. You’ll enjoy yourself immensely up in that country; the air will be good for you and even if you come back broke it’ll pay. By the way, how much money have you on hand $ ’ ’

“I’ve got thirteen dollars left out of my savings-bank account, which took me to Florida, and besides that I have one hundred and ten dollars left out of what I cleared from the Olivette,” replied Becky promptly'. “That makes just one hundred and twenty-three dollars. It doesn’t seem very much to go all the way to New Hampshire on and stay a month!”

“Why, you’re a regular plutocrat!” laughed her father. “It won’t cost more than fifty dollars to take you there and back, which leaves you nearly seventy-five dollars for clothes. And don’t let dresses worry you, little girl. If you look as neat and pretty as you do right now I guess no one’s going to find any fault. These Hattons seem to be mighty sensible people and, besides, you can’t put on many frills up in that country or I miss my guess!”

“Well, I hope not,” assented Becky dubiously. “Anyhow, they know I haven't any frills to put on. They'd only laugh at me if I did pretend to have all the things I can't afford, so — I guess I'll go!”

‘ 1 Good for you ! ' ' laughed her father, giving her a hug and a kiss. “You're all right, Captain Becky ! Now it'll be up to you, mother, to do some planning on dresses, eh V ”

“No, it won't!” retorted Marjorie promptly. “Two or three plain white ones, just about like I had in Florida, will do. We've got a whole month to make them in, and I can buy a good readymade heavy suit to travel in.”

“You'll have to have one really nice dress, dear, ' ' added her mother. ‘ ‘ Remember that there will probably be parties and dances and all kinds of entertainments.”

“Well,” admitted Becky rather dubiously, “I suppose I'll have to have a party dress pretty soon anyway. Still, I don't see why a plain white wash one wouldn't be quite good enough for any summer resort.”

“We can settle all that later,” smiled Mrs. Beckwith in reply. ‘ ‘ The main thing is to be sure that you're going.”

“And I'm sure of that now,” laughed Becky happily. “I only wish that you could come with me, mother dear, instead of sticking in this old city !”

4 ‘ Oh, we ’ll get away, ’ ’ laughed her father. “We may run off for a couple of weeks while you’re gone. ’ ’

4 4 Well, I hope you will,” answered the girl, gathering up her letters. “Now I guess I’ll write to Lucile before we change our minds ! ’ ’

Chapter II

It was an eventful month that followed Becky’s decision and the days passed all too quickly, filled as they were with preparations. After a long discussion Becky and her mother decided that, besides the traveling suit, which would do for rough weather and trips, she would have to have a Peter Thompson — homemade, of course — one party dress, and a supply of simple white wash waists and skirts. Then the hat question came up and here Marjorie took a decided stand.

“ It ’s no use, mother ! I ’ll fix up that old brown hat to go with the traveling dress and we’ll pick out a nice little toque down «t Field’s. Anyway, I guess I won’t wear a hat r ji.cii in fine weather.”

“But a Peter Thompson — on a farm!” protested Mrs. Beckwith.

“I know,” returned Marjorie, “but then there’s a lake near there, you know, and anyway you can use ’em for tennis or house-dresses or ’most anything. ’ ’

So the materials were bought, a seamstress en- 20 gaged and the work began. For three weeks Marjorie and her mother worked almost night and day, while on every chair and table were heaps of half -finished dress goods that nearly drove Mr. Beckwith crazy.

“Why can’t yon folks keep yonr stuff in the sewing room!” he demanded one night as he pulled his tobacco from underneath a half-made P. T., and Becky made a mad rush to save the precious blouse from being dragged to the floor. “If this goes on much longer I’ll fit up a room in the barn ! ’ ’

1 1 I dare you to ! ” laughed his wife. ‘ ‘ Look out ! You’re pulling that lace off the ”

“ Oh ! ” shrieked Becky as she rescued the filmy stuff. “You’ve spilled tobacco all over this lawn ”

“That’s enough!” cried Mr. Beckwith hastily as he fled to the hall and seized his hat. ‘ 1 This is no place for me! Good night!”

But he returned an hour later with a very effectual peace-offering in the shape of a quart of ice cream and promised to keep his tobacco pouch in his study thereafter on condition that Becky should keep his big chair free of dress material. The compromise was placed on a substantial basis by a freshly baked cake to match the ice cream and thereafter the lounging chair was kept clear.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Marjorie, three days before her departure, as she gazed on the bright new trunk and the pile of things to go into it. “I wish I could wear them all at once! I’ve never had so many fine things in all my life ! And how my bank balance has shrunk ! 1 9

“Never mind that, dear,” smiled her mother cheerfully as she added to the pile the box which contained the light blue toque trimmed with silver a la Jeanne Maubourg. “No worrying over money this time! You are going to have a real vacation and enjoy every minute of it. By the way, whatever became of that funny boy you were telling us about — Lewis something ? ’ ’

‘ ‘ Lewis Ahlswede ? ’ ’ laughed Becky as her mind went back to the “devil” on the Melbourne Times who had filled such a curious niche on the cruise of the Olivette . “I don’t know! Yes I do, too — I got a postal from him a month ago, don’t you remember? He was going north. The Hattons promised to find him something to do. Poor Lewis ! I hope he realizes some of his ambitions. Well, how are we going to get all this pile packed in that little trunk?”

“Three days left for that, Marjorie,” replied Mrs. Beckwith. “It’ll go in, never fear! Wait till father begins to make things fly!”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Becky in dismay.

i ‘ Not if I know it, mother ! No, indeed. I’ll pack up this trunk myself and you can help me, right now ! ’ ’

Thereupon Marjorie set to work with feverish energy and before Mr. Beckwith came home that evening the trunk was packed, locked and strapped, ready to be sent off. The next two days were spent in packing and repacking the suit case, whose contents were to last Becky on the threedays’ journey. More letters had been exchanged with Lucile and the details of the trip were complete.

“You’ll be met in New York by Uncle Jim,” explained Mr. Beckwith, referring to his brother who lived in that city. “He ’ll put you on the New York Central and at Springfield, Massachusetts, you’ll have to change to the Boston and Maine. Here’s your through transportation to Windsor where the Hattons will meet you. ’ ’

“With their new car, I hope,” added Marjorie happily but just a trifle doubtfully. “You’d better write down all those changes and the time and everything, father!”

“Here you are,” laughed her father, holding out a card. “Be sure and have Uncle Jim set your watch on for you — the time changes, you know. Are you sure you told Lucile what train you’d be on?”

“Why, no!” replied Becky. “I told her when my train left Chicago, though, so 99

She was interrupted by a peal of laughter from her father and it took her fully a minute to realize the cause. She was rescued from her confusion by Mrs. Beckwith, however, who commanded her husband to send a telegram at once with the missing information and, as no great harm had been done, Becky soon came to appreciate the joke herself.

The New York Limited pulled out early Monday morning. With her grip safely bestowed under the seat and the porter attended to, Becky stood on the platform till the very last minute. Then, with a hasty kiss and a last wave, she sprang up the steps, and by the time she gained the window the platform had disappeared and the gray walls of the Twelfth Street Station were slipping past.

Marjorie was well supplied with magazines and after removing her hat she settled down comfortably to enjoy herself. Her double seat was shared by a rather faded-pretty and washed-out looking woman, as Becky mentally described her after a glance. The woman was evidently not very wellto-do ; her clothes had been mended repeatedly and Becky caught more than one of their fellow travelers glancing at their section rather scornfully. However, she was soon too much interested in her magazines to pay much attention to anyone else, and the morning passed off uneventfully, without a word having been exchanged between them.

With the first call for luncheon Marjorie went forward to the dining car. When she returned to her seat she found the quiet little woman tossing a bag out of the window.

‘ 4 Aren’t you going to the. diner V 9 she asked impulsively, and then stopped short, realizing her own lack of tact.

“No,” smiled the woman rather faintly. “Pm only going to Detroit and it doesn’t matter.”

They fell into conversation and Marjorie learned that her companion was rejoining her husband who had gone to Detroit in search of work; that she considered a Pullman a terrible extravagance and had been all her life, so it seemed to the girl, frightfully poor. Mrs. Simms was an uncomplaining woman but as little glimmerings of life-troubles sifted through her words Marjorie began to feel a great pity for her companion, mingled with a desire to help her in some way.

They were nearly in Detroit by this time and Mrs. Simms placed her battered suit case on the seat. From it she took a very limited toilet traveling-set. Becky’s eyes widened as she thought of the neat, pretty little set that lay beneath her feet and, when the other woman went to the washroom as they flashed into the city, she acted on one of her impulsive ideas.

Quickly opening her own suit case she took out her own toilet set, quickly extracted one or two really necessary articles and leaned over the other suit case. Hastily scribbling a word on her card, she slipped the rubber-wrapped case under a folded skirt, reclosed the battered grip and took up her magazine as Mrs. Simms returned. A hasty farewell and the “ washed-out woman” disappeared in charge of the porter.

“I don’t care!” thought Becky, her cheeks flushed. “ Maybe it wasn’t nice, but I felt like doing it! It’s new and pretty and maybe it’ll make her feel better every morning to see it lying on her dresser. ’ ’

With which thought Becky buried herself again in a magazine and dismissed the subject. The weather was not unpleasantly warm but she was filled with despair at the dust and cinders which filled the car and made frequent washing necessary. She glanced at her waist that evening in dismay.

“I’ve got a clean one in the valise,” she reflected, “but I’m going to save that till I get to Windsor. Oh, well, this will do for New York, anyhow! It’ s a mercy that I picked out a bine suit to travel in.”

She awoke next morning to find the train entering the New York station. She dressed hastily and with a final pat at her hair pnt on her hat and rang for the porter.

“Gracious!” she thought as she looked in the mirror, “I look horribly old with my hair on top and this veil ! I hope Uncle Jim will know me.”

She had not seen her uncle for two years but she had barely reached the platform when he came striding up and greeted her with a hearty kiss.

“My, you’re quite grown up!” he exclaimed as he held her off and looked her over with a twinkle in his eye. “I wasn’t sure it was you until I saw your initials on the suit case ! How ’s everyone ? ’ ’

“Fine,” laughed Becky, replacing her veil. “Are uncles always so — so nice?”

“Of course” asserted Uncle Jim stoutly. “Especially when they have such attractive looking nieces to meet! Now, how long have you in town ? ”

Becky produced her card and they found that she had an hour before her New York Central train left for Springfield. So the suit case was checked and for one delightful hour Becky was whirled through New York streets in a taxi, returning to the station barely in time to jump aboard and kiss her uncle good-bye — a formality which he strongly insisted on.

“ You’ll have to spend at least a whole day with me on your way home ! ’ ’ he announced as the train began to move. ‘ ‘Be sure and let me know when you’re coming!”

“I will. Good-bye!” called back Marjorie, and the first part of her journey was over. She found this train very different from the luxurious 4 4 flyer” that had brought her from Chicago in less than a day, but she was enjoying herself immensely and cared very little for her surroundings. She was still on board a Pullman but the other passengers were all drummers except for two boys who sat across the aisle from Becky.

These two were full of animated talk on various subjects, intended to reach the ear of the pretty girl in the opposite section, so Becky discreetly retired behind her magazine. After several sly glances she decided that neither of the boys was bad-looking and that the red-haired one was positively funny when he tried to be. She was suddenly startled to find him bowing in an exaggerated manner before her while his companion grinned from across the aisle.

“I beg your pardon,” he said politely, looking with his merry blue eyes into Becky’s rather angry darker ones, “but I think you dropped this. ’ ’

And he held out a handkerchief which Becky recognized and accepted in no little confusion. But the red-haired boy was not through.

“Pardon me again/ ’ and his eyes twinkled, “but — ah — could I help you — er — in any way ”

Becky was half frozen up, when the sight of the second boy grinning covertly showed her that it was only a joke, and she promptly grew angry — although she didn’t show it in the least. Assuming her very sweetest smile as the red-haired chap stammered in his evident embarrassment and seemed just about to lose his nerve, she broke in :

“Why, certainly. Bring me a glass of water, please.”

“Ah — why, sure ! 9 9 Off dashed the boy, returning an instant later with a glass of water. Becky took it, drank and handed back the empty glass with a murmured word of thanks. Then she very decidedly picked up her magazine and hid her burning face, from view. She suddenly realized that she had acted in an extremely unbecoming fashion and her only excuse was the grin that had stirred her wrath. The two boys evidently felt the same way, for they disappeared shortly after and Becky saw no more of them — until later.

At Springfield she had no trouble in making connections and the Boston and Maine took her into a very different country. The time flew past so quickly that Becky could scarcely realize that her journey was over when the conductor called out ‘ 4 Windsor ’ ’ and they flashed into a small city, beside the river, with the blue mountains in the distance.