CHAPTER XXIV

WORRIMENT

Telephoning in the Adirondacks was not such an easy matter as it is in New York, as Sylvia soon discovered. It developed that when Harry had called her up he had been obliged to go some distance from Loneberg Camp, and Sylvia had neglected to get the number of the station whence he talked to her.

In consequence, though she made a number of inquiries, she was unable, from Saranac Inn, to get in communication with her brother that night, and was obliged to give over the attempt.

"Never mind," said Mrs. Brownley. "We will go to them the first thing in the morning. You girls need a rest, anyhow, and it may be better if you don't see Roy, or talk to him or Harry and perhaps cause them both a restless night."

"Yes, I suppose it is for the best," Sylvia agreed, rather wearily.

She was very tired, for she had danced often and late the night before. She had slept but little and the day's long journey had not been conducive to rest.

"There's a dance on here to-night," Hazel announced, as she came into Sylvia's room after it had been definitely settled that Roy could not be communicated with that night.

"No dancing for me," declared Rose, with decision.

"Nor me," agreed Sylvia.

"You will all be better off in bed," asserted the chaperon, "and so I officially prescribe that."

Not that the girls thought seriously of indulging in gaiety on this night.

Their sleep was not altogether dreamless, though it was heavy enough. But Sylvia had an uneasy consciousness, half dreamy, of some impending trouble. She could not shake it off even when she awoke and found her room bright with sunlight. She soon discovered that she was suffering with what was rare for her--a headache.

"I'm afraid my Knight of the Canoe had rather a bad effect on me," she confessed. "I want to look and feel my best when I meet Roy. I think I shall have my breakfast in bed this morning. It's a luxury I don't often indulge myself in."

Mrs. Brownley was duly surprised when, coming to Sylvia's room a little later, she found her charge partaking of grapefruit, bacon and eggs, and a pot of coffee, comfortably propped up in bed. A deft chambermaid was waiting on Sylvia and serving the meal.

"Why, my dear, are you ill?" asked the chaperon.

"This doesn't look like it," Sylvia answered, pointing to the emptied plate. "But my head ached and I decided to rest."

"Perhaps that was wise," agreed Aunt Theodora. "I must see how my other charges are, though. Do you intend to go see Roy to-day?"

"Oh, yes, indeed. But I wanted to be at my very best. We have time enough. It isn't such a great way to Loneberg Camp."

Mrs. Brownley sought Rose, and, again, somewhat to the surprise of the chaperon, she found that young lady also breakfasting in bed.

"Well, well!" was her startled greeting. "Are you ill, too?"

"Why, is some one else doing this, also?" Rose asked.

"Sylvia is."

"And is she----"

"Not ill, no, I'm glad to say. But I suppose you have the same idea in mind--looking your best?"

Rose blushed.

"We really ought all to have stayed in bed this morning," Mrs. Brownley went on, "and as you dancing girls were cheated out of your beauty sleep there is no reason why you shouldn't make it up now. Rest as long as you like, my dear. We won't start for Roy's camp until after lunch, perhaps."

"But he may be anxiously expecting--Sylvia."

"Or--you. But it can't be helped. If anything were to arise, any sudden need, his friend would doubtless telephone."

Hazel and Alice were rather more vigorous than either Rose or Sylvia, and went down to the last breakfast. Then they came up to see the "invalids," as they called them.

"Indeed I'm no more of an invalid than you!" exclaimed Sylvia, with spirit. "I'm just getting up some reserve strength."

And, though she did not know it, there was coming a time when she would need all her stored-up energy.

Inquiry at the hotel office brought out the fact that Loneberg Camp lay about four miles distant from Saranac Inn, near Lake Clear, and that this point could be reached by driving. This mode of conveyance the girls and their chaperon decided on.

As they learned that the drive would not take long, they decided to defer it until after lunch, provided no messages were received in the meanwhile from Roy or his companion, urging their visit before afternoon.

"It will do us good to see a little of the lake," Sylvia said.

Upper Saranac Lake is about eight miles in length, and lies in a most picturesque section, dotted with other lakes and ponds, on which boating of many sorts, from canoeing and motoring to travel in small steamers, may be enjoyed. There was good fishing in the lake, the girls were told.

"But we can come back and enjoy that after we have seen Roy," decided Rose, and the others agreed with her.

They spent the morning in going about the hotel and the grounds, venturing out a little way on the lake. It was a region of beauty, and Sylvia's plan of having the Nowadays Club take the first outing in the Adirondacks was voted an unqualified success.

"Better wait," advised the recipient of the impromptu motion of thanks. "The vacation isn't nearly over yet. You may all be sorry you came."

Luncheon time came, and as no word was received from Roy or his companion, Sylvia took heart, and began to hope that her brother's indisposition was but a passing one.

"But it's just as well we came up," she said to her chums. "We intended to, anyhow, and a day or two sooner doesn't make any difference to us. I did intend to make the trip by boat; for the canoeing is said to be ideal from Raquette Lake on."

"And we could have very much enjoyed a few more days at the Antlers," Hazel said. "But it is just perfect here. And they are going to have some dances, too. We'll talk about them, though, when we know your brother is better, Sylvia," she hastened to add.

"Oh, you mustn't let my family affairs put a damper on you girls!" was the quick comment. "I can't have that!"

"Perhaps Roy himself will be well enough to come over to some of the affairs," Rose suggested. "He is a lovely dancer."

"Well, you ought to know," said Hazel, significantly.

"Now, Baby, don't get sarcastic!" murmured Alice, soothingly.

But Rose did not seem to mind.

The drive to Lake Clear was entrancing. It was along a road that led through the forest, where the trees met overhead in an arch of green. The forest was as inviting as the lake had been, and the girls planned, later, to spend a day or so walking along the woodland trails.

"Roy is so fond of the woods," Sylvia remarked. "When he knew he was to come up here he brightened up at once, though he was in the depths of despair over losing that chemical secret."

"Do you think he'll ever discover it again?" asked Hazel.

"I hope so. The doctor said he might if he could have perfect rest."

"Well, I can't imagine a more perfect place to rest than up here," added Rose.

"It's a bit lonesome," said Alice, with a glance at the dense woods on either side of the waggon trail.

"It wouldn't be with the right party," Hazel asserted.

"Meaning?" questioned Sylvia, with a glance at her chum.

"Any one you like, my dear."

"Any one or any ones," declared Rose. "I notice Hazel believes there is at least more companionship in numbers."

"I'm not a bit worse than you, my dear."

"Don't let's spoil the day by even that sort of a discussion," Sylvia begged.

Mrs. Brownley was in front with the driver, and the girls occupied the other two seats of the big carriage.

It was the height of the Adirondack season, and they saw many evidences of campers and other summer folk enjoying themselves. It was a delightful drive, and when Lake Clear was reached they started off on a little side road toward Loneberg Camp.

Though it was called a camp, it was really a hotel of the smaller kind, with enough comforts and conveniences to make it an ideal place to spend a vacation, if one liked solitude, for it was well off in the woods.

There were not many guests, but some young chaps on the porch looked hopeful as the four pretty girls drove up. There was a noticeable air of life about them, as they "spruced-up."

"Mr. Montray and Mr. Pursell," repeated the clerk, when Mrs. Brownley had made inquiries at the desk. "Yes, they were here, but they left this morning."

"They left this morning!" echoed Sylvia, blankly surprised.

"Yes, miss. It seems Mr. Pursell was expecting friends, and when they did not come he and his companion left about ten o'clock."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Sylvia. "And to think that we might have been here if I hadn't--well, there's no use in lamenting, I suppose. They'll be back shortly, I expect. We'll wait for them."

"No, miss, I don't think they'll be back to-day," the clerk said.

"Not back to-day! Where did they go?"

"I heard Mr. Pursell say they were going to visit friends who have a bungalow on Lower Saranac. Your brother, is he, miss?"

"Yes."

"Well, your brother and his friend took some baggage with them, and I should say they were going to stay a week."

"A week!" cried Sylvia. "They said nothing to me about it. Was it--was it rather sudden?" she faltered.

"Yes, I should say it was," the clerk admitted.

"And my brother, was he better?"

"Well, miss, no, to tell you the truth. And I think his friend did not want him to leave this place. But Mr. Pursell insisted, and they went away. However, I have a letter for you. Mr. Montray left it to be given to you if you came. Probably that will explain."

He handed Sylvia a sealed envelope. She took it with a heart that beat faster than usual, and with a vague sense of worriment as if a calamity might happen at any moment. Why had Roy left so suddenly?

Sylvia did not like it.