Hesba Stretton - The Ultimate Christmas Library - 100+ Authors, 200 Novels, Novellas, Stories, Poems and Carols

“Well, Nan Sherwood did, I s’pose,” Linda observed, her color rising.

“You are heartily welcome if you think you need to thank me, Linda,” Nan said, quietly. “But Walter really did it all.”

“Of course!” said Linda, tossing her head, for Bess’ manner had rasped the rich girl, “I know it took Walter to do it. But I presumed you girls expected to be thanked, too,” and she turned sharply away.

“Oh, Bess! we ought not to have spoken as we did,” murmured Nan, contritely.

“Pooh! Let her go. Mean old thing!” exclaimed Bess. “And you didn’t say anything to get her mad. Crocodile tears! what did I tell you? Linda Riggs is a regular cat— ”

“Both cat and crocodile?” giggled Nan. “Your natural history, Bess, honey, must be slightly twisted.”

“I’ve about got that girl’s number, just the same,” said Bess, slangily. “You wait, Nan. She’ll be just as mean when we get to Lakeview Hall as ever she was. Mark my word.”

“All right, Worthy Prophetess,” said Nan, seriously. “I mark thee well. But I am afraid we are in the wrong this time. We should have encouraged her attempt to be grateful.”

She had no idea— nor had Nan Sherwood herself— that it lay within Linda’s power, if it did in her wish, to injure Nan further. But Fate weaves strange webs of ordinary circumstances and that very evening Nan Sherwood came in close contact with Linda Riggs again, and the incident savored of a new peril, as keen as it was unexpected.

Walter was a minute late at the dinner table that night and as he slid into his seat beside Nan, after excusing himself to his mother and receiving her absolution in a smile, he whispered to Nan:

“What’s ‘on’ for after dinner?”

“I really do not know of anything, Walter,” she replied, smiling. “Don’t you suppose we girls ever want to keep quiet? This visit to your house has been one continual round of pleasure— ”

“Yes. You get your pleasure out of rescuing kids from the street, chasing runaway horses, hunting for runaway girls, and playing Sister of Charity to sick people. Say! your idea of pleasure, Nan Sherwood, is simply funny. Now, I’ve got something on for this evening, if you, and Bess, and Grace— and the kid, of course—want to go. But no crowd. My exchequer will not stand it.

“I’m running low in funds and father won’t let me overdraw my allowance, although he lets Grace do it almost every month. He says a girl hasn’t any head for figures, anyway, and she’s to be excused.”

“Oh, my!” gasped Nan. “That maligns the sex. I ought not to allow that, Walter Mason.”

“Huh!” returned the boy, grinning. “Grace doesn’t mind how much the sex is maligned, I warrant, as long as father hands her out an extra five whenever she runs short.”

“But you haven’t told me what the scheme is for this evening,” Nan reminded him.

“Movies,” Walter said. “There’s a dandy new theatre opened on Halliburton Street. It isn’t far, and mother approves of the class of pictures they run. There are going to be some funny ones shown to-night, too. I’ll stand treat for you girls— but no more.”

“Dear me, Walter,” cried Nan. “You spend all your money on us girls.”

“It couldn’t go in a better cause,” retorted the generous boy, stoutly.

Permission for the evening’s outing was easily obtained, and the quintette of pleasure-seeking young folk hurried away immediately after dinner, so as to see the first show and get home early. Little Inez was as eager and excited as she could be over the prospect of seeing a real movie show.

“I seen some pictures once in a dance hall where a man let me sell me flowers,” she explained. “But, I never dared spend a nickel for no show. Me aunt would have scalped me— sure she would!”

Mr. Sherwood had seen Inez’s aunt that afternoon, at his little daughter’s request, and found that the woman dared make no objection as to their disposal of the child. In fact, she seemed a good deal relieved that kind friends had been raised for Inez.

The party arrived at the new picture palace to find a goodly crowd already assembled at the entrance. On this opening night there was a good deal of local interest shown, and the first picture was being finished when Nan Sherwood and her friends crowded into their seats.

“That’s a good picture, I warrant,” Walter said. “We want to stay and see that run over again. Ah-ha! here comes a Keynote Comedy. That will be a funny one, sure.”

“I like to laugh,” announced Inez, with her most serious air. “But I ain’t never had much time for it.”

“You poor little mite,” said Bess. “I should say you hadn’t. But you’ll laugh all right when you get home with us to Tillbury. Won’t she, Nan?”

“Of course she will,” agreed Nan, squeezing the little one close to her.

They did not, however, laugh much at the picture which followed. The reels did not seem to run very evenly. Either the operator was not an experienced one or there was something the matter with the machine. The flash-card, “Wait a minute, please,” appeared so frequently on the screen that the audience began to murmur, and some got up and went out.

There were others ready to take their places, and this continual changing of positions in the half-darkness of the house made a confusion that was hard to bear.

Nan and her friends moved over against the wall and another party came rustling in to take the seats in that row nearest to the aisle. Not until this crowd was seated did the party from the Mason house realize that it was anybody whom they knew.

Then Pearl Graves’ rather loud voice broke in upon Nan and Walter’s whispered conversation:

“Why! see who’s here?” she cried. “Hullo, Walter Mason. Who’s that you’ve got with you? Nan Sherwood, I’ll be bound. And Grace, and Bess Harley. Hullo, girls! Is the show any good?”

“For goodness’ sake!” interposed the sharp voice of the girl on the other side of Pearl. “Can’t we go anywhere without running up against that Nan Sherwood and her crowd?”

“Oh, you be still, Linda!” laughed good-natured Pearl. “You ought to be pleased as Punch to see Nan and Walter. Between them they just about saved your life when Granny Graves’ horses ran away with you the other day.”

Little Inez was on Nan’s other side and immediately Nan gave her attention to the child, leaving Walter free to talk with the new-comers if he chose.

“Did you like that picture, dear?” asked Nan of the little one.

“Hi! I liked it where the fat man slipped up on the soap at the top of the stairs and slid to the bottom where the scrub-woman left her tub of water. Do you ‘spect that was real water, Nan Sherwood? He’d ha’ been drowned, wouldn’t he?”

“I guess it was real water,” laughed Nan. “But they wouldn’t let him be drowned in a picture.”

“I forget it’s a picture,” sighed little Inez, exhibiting thereby true dramatic feeling for the art of acting. To her small mind the pantomime seemed real.

Another reel was started. The projection of it flickered on the screen until it dazzled one’s eyes to try to watch it.

“Goodness!” gasped Pearl Graves. “I hope that won’t keep up.”

The excited little Hebrew who owned the theatre ran, sputtering, up the aisle, and climbed into the gallery to expostulate with the operator. There was an explosion of angry voices from the operator’s box when the proprietor reached it.

The reel was halted again— this time without the projection of the usual “Wait a minute, please,” card. The next instant there was another explosion; but not of voices.

A glare of greenish flame was projected from the box in the gallery where the machine was located— then followed a series of crackling, snapping explosions!