Читать книгу Beverly Gray's Quest - Clair Blank - Страница 5

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White Corners stood surrounded with the vivid colors of late summer. The trees in the drive were beginning to turn scarlet and yellow and at one side of the house, beside the French windows leading into the library, chrysanthemums hung heavy heads in the sunlight.

“It is the most beautiful spot ever,” Beverly whispered. “I already feel as if it has belonged to us always.”

Larry smiled down at her. “Happy?”

“So happy I’m a little afraid,” Beverly said, her voice trembling. “Larry, we have so much, doesn’t it make you hold your breath sometimes? If it could only last forever!”

“It will last forever,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nothing shall ever part us, Beverly. Nothing, I promise you.”

“Hey, Larry! You’ve got a family of squirrels in the oak tree.” Roger and Shirley dashed around the corner of the house, hand in hand, laughing.

“It is a lovely place, Beverly,” Shirley declared. “No wonder you are both so proud of it.”

“We’ve been looking at the house across the road,” added Roger. “It is empty.”

“You mean you might buy it?” Beverly asked gleefully. “We’d be neighbors!”

“We don’t know if it is for sale,” Shirley murmured. “Anyway—we’ll see.”

They climbed into Roger’s car and as it started out the driveway, Beverly cried:

“Roger, wait!” She turned around to take another last look at the white house shining in the setting sun.

“What’s wrong?” Larry asked.

“I don’t know,” Beverly said, suppressing a shiver. “Just suddenly I felt afraid—it was like a shadow—a premonition that we might never see it again.”

“Silly!” Larry murmured gently. “Tomorrow you leave for California and Mike and I for South America. White Corners will be here waiting—for both of us.”

Beverly was only partly reassured by his words. There still persisted that feeling of impending disaster, though she said no more about it to the others throughout their gay evening.

Larry and Mike were to take off at dawn and the girls planned to start about seven o’clock. Therefore, they retired early but there was little sleep for anyone. Lenora was so excited she kept Shirley and Lois awake, and Beverly was wakeful on her own account because of that gloomy foreboding.

At last in desperation Beverly got up and dressed.

“Where are you going at this hour?” Shirley asked sleepily.

“To the airport. May I borrow your car?”

“Help yourself,” Shirley yawned. “Call me when you get back.”

When Beverly turned the car onto the Queensboro Bridge the first faint pink glow of daylight was just beginning to tip the horizon. Streets were deserted and the air was clear and cold. As she came onto the landing field a man left the side of a small red plane and came toward her. Beverly stepped out of the car and stood waiting.

“Beverly!” Larry exclaimed. “I didn’t expect you. We said good-bye last night——”

“This is a postscript,” Beverly laughed. “I—I just wanted to see you take off.”

“That funny feeling again?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can’t help it, Larry. Be careful.”

“Same to you,” he directed smilingly. “Stay away from those handsome movie actors. I’ll see you in a month or so and write you in care of General Delivery in Los Angeles.”

Out on the field the motor of the plane broke into a roar, and Mike waved a gay hand.

“Good-bye, darling.” For a second Larry held her hand tightly, then kissed her and strode off to climb aboard the Red Bird III.

Beverly watched until the little plane was lost in the low-hanging clouds, then she climbed back into Shirley’s car and returned to the apartment, determined to shake off that foreboding.

She found the girls up and dressed, though not very wide awake.

“It is a good thing you don’t go away every day,” Lois yawned. “I’d be a nervous wreck.”

“You can sleep every morning from now on until we get back,” Lenora said blithely. “You won’t see us for a month or more.”

“I’ll miss you,” Lois said, unexpectedly serious.

“We’ll miss you too,” Beverly returned.

“I wish you were going with us,” added Shirley.

“I’ll keep the home fires burning,” Lois replied. “Heavens! That reminds me—the toast!”

The girls from upstairs, Hope Rodgers, Connie Elwood, Kathleen Ryan and Virginia Harris wandered down in pajamas and housecoats to see the travelers off. Baggage was stored in place and Lenora climbed in the back seat with her camera and supply of maps and sightseeing folders. Shirley was at the wheel with Beverly beside her.

“California or bust!” Lenora shouted as the car began to move. “Good-bye, everybody!”

“We are actually on our way,” Shirley said, settling herself more comfortably. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Bound for the wide open spaces,” sighed Beverly.

“With three thousand miles ahead of us,” added Lenora happily. “What a trip this will be!”

The sun shone with pleasant intentness and the ride to Renville, Beverly’s home town and their first overnight stop, was enjoyable but uneventful. They pulled up before the Gray home early in the afternoon and all their friends were on hand to welcome them. There were Beverly’s parents, Anne, who had been in college with them, and her husband and young son. In addition there were the other members of the Lucky Circle, a group of young people of the town with whom Beverly had been very popular and whom Shirley and Lenora had met on previous visits to Renville.

The Lucky Circle had planned a big evening for them. They had provided a huge wagon filled with straw and drawn by a team of sturdy horses to take the whole group beyond the town for a barbecue.

When the food had disappeared the young people sat around the campfire and sang songs and told stories. Lenora, at her best as a story teller, held them enchanted with a ghostly tale until it seemed the very woods around them contained mysterious eyes and figures and the rustling leaves were specters whispering to one another.

“I know it is silly,” Barbara West said with a nervous glance over her shoulder, “but I feel as if someone were watching us.”

“It’s the ghosts,” Joan Roberts giggled. “Lenora has roused them with her story.”

“I’m surprised at you,” Lenora laughed. “Don’t you know there aren’t any such things as ghosts?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?” Boyd Marshall asked interestedly.

“Of course not,” Lenora said.

“So she doesn’t believe in ghosts!” Gordon Brewster pulled Boyd aside as the talk became general and all the way back to Renville the two plotted in secret.

The next morning the girls resumed their journey full of gaiety and good spirit. After they had gone about fifty miles dark clouds gathered overhead and rain pelted on the roof. Lenora played records on the portable phonograph she had insisted on bringing with her and beamed on her friends.

“Isn’t this cozy?”

Beverly and Shirley, straining their eyes to see the rain swept highway, permitted themselves a brief smile. It was no easy task to guide the car over an unfamiliar road in a storm. It made the situation even worse when they came to a detour.

“A detour!” Lenora groaned. “Now we are sure to be lost.”

“The map doesn’t show a detour,” Beverly added, frowning intently over the maze of blue lines.

“Ouch! What a bump!” Lenora cried as the car lurched heavily.

“Look at that road! A sea of mud. It must have been raining here for days. All we need now is—oh!” Shirley gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Lenora leaned over the seat.

“Look at the gauge. We are almost out of gas.”

“But I thought we filled it last night in Renville,” Beverly said.

“We did,” Shirley nodded.

“That’s strange,” Lenora declared. “There must be termites in the gas tank.”

“Whatever it is certainly eats gasoline,” Shirley sighed. “Uh-oh, there it goes.”

The engine coughed and died into silence. The starter whirled merrily but the engine did not start.

“Lost on a detour in a cloudburst,” Lenora sighed. “I can think of nicer things. Here is a story for your first day, Bev.”

“But how am I going to send it from here and what shall it be about?” Beverly demanded.

“The rain drenched countryside held unsuspected beauty——” Lenora began when Shirley interrupted.

“There is a house over there.”

“Where?”

The other two girls turned to stare out the window.

“Goody! Maybe it is haunted!” Lenora said gleefully. “Let’s go see if we can get some gasoline.”

“What would ghosts be doing with gasoline?” Shirley wanted to know disgustedly.

“Well—maybe the witches ride gasoline scooters instead of broomsticks. After all, these modern inventions——”

“Let’s go and see if anyone lives there,” Beverly suggested.

“In all this rain?” Shirley demurred. “Oh, very well, if I must.”

“It is a good thing we didn’t pack our raincoats,” Lenora declared, passing Beverly her coat and then Shirley hers.

“We’ll need our galoshes to cross that field,” Shirley declared. “Couldn’t we just sit here until someone comes along the road?”

“We have been here twenty minutes now and there hasn’t been one single car,” Beverly pointed out.

“Come on,” Lenora urged. “You won’t melt.”