Chapter XI: The Orange Grove

As they passed through the door they gasped with amazement and wonder. Nothing on the outside of the whitewashed fence could have given them an idea of what it concealed.

Mr. and Mrs. Duffy stood arm in arm, smiling with proud pleasure, as rotund as their own round oranges. It was a thing to be proud of certainly to possess this noble grove.

Imagine rows and rows of orange trees all exactly the same size and each cut in the shape of a beautiful dark green ball. And, as if nature could not be lavish enough with gifts to one of her favorite children, each tree was a bouquet of flowers, ripe fruit and green fruit. Through the polished cool green leaves gleamed the brilliant golden balls, and the clusters of white flowers sent out a fragrance that was sweeter and more delicate than the most delicious perfume ever distilled.

"Perhaps the Garden of Eden was an orange grove," said Mary, pinching herself to see if this really were a dream.

"Only this fruit is not forbidden, my sweet child," answered Mrs. Duffy, "and you shall have all you can eat of it this minute. Mr. Duffy, did you tell James to bring the knives?"

"Certainly, my dear. I couldn't forget them because they are in the pocket of this garment, and I've been afraid of sitting on them inadvertently."

He drew forth a number of sharp steel knives and distributed them among the guests.

"The old woman and I will show you first how to peel the oranges," he said, "and then just fall to and help yourselves. You can eat all you want and don't be afraid they will make you sick. They never do. They are very much like rattlesnakes, I think. They won't strike you unless you are afraid of them."

After a few trials they learned to reverse the peeling on the orange and draw it down to one end like a handle. The proper way to eat the orange was to bite into it as if it were an apple.

They never knew how many oranges they consumed that day. Most of them lost count after the fourth or fifth. They even lost sight of each other and wandered about in the beautiful grove like a band of greedy sleep walkers.

"I declare," exclaimed Billie at last, coming out of her absorption long enough to squeeze Mrs. Duffy's plump waist and smile into her face, "we are just a lot of butchers stabbing fruit to death."

"I don't wonder you never stay here for any length of time, Mrs. Duffy," said Timothy Peppercorn. "The smell of these blossoms and the fruit have hypnotized me already. I can't remember who I am. I feel that I am rapidly becoming an orange."

"Or a mock orange, perhaps," suggested Nancy.

"No, the real thing. I'm a genuine Florida orange, a delicious concoction of juice and pulp----"

"Not much pulp, Timothy, my son," interrupted Mr. Duffy. "You must lay on a little before you leave Florida. But what about lunch, my dear?"

"Lunch?" gasped Miss Helen Campbell, who had retired to a bench and was leaning back exhausted. "How can you mention the word?"

"Oh, you'll be ready enough to eat after you shake down a bit," said Mr. Duffy. "We'll see the alligators first."

"But, my dear," objected Mrs. Duffy, "alligators are such unappetizing creatures. Perhaps Miss Campbell would prefer to lie down and rest while you take the children to see the animals."

"I feel as if I had been dipped in a shower bath of orange juice," cried Elinor, joining the others who had gradually assembled under one of the trees.

"Now you see why I keep these pinafores for my guests," answered Mrs. Duffy. "I wouldn't have you ruin your pretty frocks for the sake of a few oranges."

"It was worth it," ejaculated Billie. "I haven't a dress I wouldn't have sacrificed for the opportunity of eating all the oranges I wanted to, right off the trees."

"I should have hated to give up my pale pink mulle," observed Nancy regretfully, as if she had already laid that cherished costume on the altar of the goddess of fruits.

After removing their juice-stained pinafores and washing their streaming faces and hands, they repaired to the alligator farm which was another fad of good Mr. Duffy's. Mrs. Duffy loathed the creatures, however, and she and Miss Campbell took their siesta at the bungalow in the absence of the others.

Billie herself harbored a secret distaste for the animals ever after that, on account of what happened while she was feasting her eyes on their hideous bodies.

The alligator farm in another part of Mr. Duffy's plantation appeared to have been arranged and devised solely for the comfort and happiness of these creatures, who disported themselves on the banks of a small lake or wallowed about in the shallow water like the great lazy reptiles they were. Immense logs and great boulders had been placed in the lake for their amusement.

"I could easily imagine they would eat Hindoo babies," said Mary, watching them fearfully through the wire netting which served to screen her from their enormous jaws.

"Jennie is really the only vicious one in the family now," observed Mr. Duffy, apologetically, pointing to an immense alligator which had stretched its length on a log. Jennie opened her jaws with a humorous grin as if her vicious reputation was an amusing subject to her.

They were still laughing at her when one of the children of the lodge-keeper ran up quite breathlessly.

"Miss Campbell is wanted on the telephone," she said.

"Me?" cried Billie. "What in the world? There must be some mistake. Who could want to speak to me over the telephone?"

"Best way to find out is to run and see," replied Mr. Duffy. "If it's long distance, and it probably is, they may be paying for time, remember."

Billie hurried after the child and the other Motor Maids followed, being as curious as she to learn who could be telephoning her in this remote region.

"Oh, my dear, I'm afraid the person couldn't wait, whoever it was," exclaimed Miss Campbell, meeting her young cousin at the door of the bungalow. "I thought it was for me at first, and I tried to take the message. There was some confusion about it. You know I'm no good over the telephone."

Billie seized the receiver.

"Hello!" she cried. "This is Billie Campbell."

An immense distance off, a still, small, and yet strangely familiar voice seemed to be speaking to her out of space:

"Billie-e-e--" it said.

"Who are you?" asked the girl, with a feeling of foreboding which an unexpected call on the long distance telephone always causes.

"It's Edward--Edward l'Estrange. Listen. I must go away. Something has happened. Make Edward Paxton keep his word. You are the only one who knows about it. Tell Virginia if necessary. But no one else. Everything depends on nobody's knowing I'm not at Palm Beach. Tell Edward I'll be back, and he must represent me in every way until I come, as he promised. You understand, don't you? Every way. You won't lose faith in me, Billie, will you?"

"No," she replied, wondering what it all meant.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye," she answered mechanically, feeling that she was in some sort of strange dream.

"Wait," called the voice that sounded so like and still so unlike Edward's. "Do you promise?"

"Yes," replied Billie.

"Good-bye again."

"Good-bye," she answered, feeling very much like giving way to a few inexplicable tears.

"Was it Edward?" burst out the bunch of curiosity as soon as Billie had hung up the receiver.

"Yes," said Billie, groping about in her mind for some explanation which would explain, without telling what Edward had really said.

"Which Edward?" asked Elinor.

"Why, the one we saw this morning. They must be in St. Augustine, now."

"But what did he want?" demanded all the girls in one voice.

"He wanted to say good-bye."

"Didn't he send any messages?" demanded Elinor.

"Just to say good-bye," replied Billie, flushing a little under the scrutiny of her friends. "He's going away."

"Not to come back any more?"

"He's coming back but not for a while. He really didn't make any explanations. He just said he was going away."

Mary and Nora laughed and Elinor was silent.

"I always said he was a queer boy," observed Mary.

"But why telephone you, child?" observed Miss Campbell, much mystified.

"I can't imagine," answered Billie. "He just seemed to have to tell some one that he was going away. That's all I know. He is queer," she admitted, laughing.

"Luncheon is served," announced a respectful colored woman who was in charge of the bungalow at all times.

At one end of the vine-covered piazza a table had been spread with a white cloth, and there the hospitable mistress of the establishment served tea and sandwiches to her guests.

During the ride back home, Billie tried to laugh and talk with the others, and Elinor, too, made a great effort to be gay. But Elinor could not conceal a slight coldness which was creeping into her heart toward her friend, and Billie, somehow, was not happy.

What did Edward l'Estrange mean by going away and shifting all his responsibilities on a strange boy and his poor little sister? And why, oh, why, would he insist on drawing her into his troublesome affairs? She wished with all her heart that he had not been such a nice, interesting boy. Then it would have made no difference if he had chosen to go to China. Only she would have still been disappointed in him, of course. And what had he meant by saying:

"You won't lose faith in me, Billie?"

It was all very strange and perplexing.