CHAPTER XVIWELCOME AND UNWELCOME GUESTS
CHAPTER XVI
WELCOME AND UNWELCOME GUESTS
The sun was just sinking when Mr. Stuart’s weary cavalcade stopped in front of a great iron gate. The gate was covered with rust and hung loose on its hinges. It opened into a splendid avenue of cypress trees. As far as the eye could see on each side of the road, ran overgrown hedges of the Rose of Sharon. The bushes were in full bloom and the masses of white blossoms gleamed in the gathering shadows like lines of new fallen snow.
“How beautiful!” exclaimed the four “Automobile Girls” in chorus.
Mr. Stuart looked anxiously up the lonely avenue as his party stumbled along the rough road and peered cautiously into the hedge first on one side then on the other. It would have been easy for an army to hide itself in the cover of the thicket, which hemmed them in on all sides in an impenetrable wall of green.
“I feel extremely uneasy, Robert,” declared Miss Sallie, her face pale under the stress of the day’s experiences.
Old Madame de Villiers smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I have no fear for myself,”she said. “My husband is a soldier. I have followed him through two great wars. What comes must come. It is all in the day’s business. But the countess, she is different. She is in my charge; nothing must happen to her. I assure you, Mr. Stuart, it is of the utmost importance that the Countess Sophia be protected.”
Miss Sallie held her head very high. Madame de Villiers was their guest, so Miss Stuart would say nothing. But why should Madame de Villiers think the safety of the Countess Sophia of more importance than that of the four “Automobile Girls?” Miss Sarah Stuart had other ideas. She was equally determined that no harm should overtake any one of her charges.
The narrow avenue finally broadened into a lawn overgrown with flowers and vines. Back of it stood an old house that had once been a fine colonial mansion. The house seemed to frown on the intruders, who had come to destroy its sacred quiet.
“I should think anybody might be ‘teched’ in the head, who lived alone in a queer place like this,” whispered Ruth to Bab, as the two girls stood with their arms about each other, staring ahead of them.
“Will you see Miss Thorne first, Jim, andexplain our plight to her?” Mr. Stuart asked the old colored man. “Or do you think it would be better to have me make matters clear?”
“I’ll do the ’splainin’, Massa,” returned old Jim. “My missis will allus listen to me. I done tole you she wasn’t jes’ like other folks.”
“Is your mistress insane, Jim?” inquired Miss Sallie anxiously.
“No-o, ma’am,” returned the old man. “Miss Thorne she ain’t crazy. She’s puffectly quiet, suh, and she’s all right on every subject ’cept one. I hates to tell you what that thing is.”
“Out with it, Jim. What is the lady’s peculiarity?”
“She imagines, suh, that her fambly is still with her, her own ma and pa, and young massa, and her sister Missy Lucy. Missy Rose ain’t never been married.”
“Where is her family, Jim?” Ruth asked.
“They lies yonder in the buryin’ ground, Missy,” replied the old darkey, pointing toward a clearing some distance from the house, where a few white stones gleamed in the twilight.
Miss Sallie shuddered. Grace and Mollie huddled close to her, while Ruth and Bab gave each other’s hands re-assuring pressures.
“Do you look after this Miss Thorne?” Mr. Stuart inquired further.
“Yes, suh; me and my wife Chloe looks after her. Chloe cooks and I works about the place when I’se not down to the beach with my boat. But my missus ain’t so poor. She’s got enough to git along with. I jest likes to earn a little extra.”
By this time Jim had climbed down from his shaky old wagon. He now opened the front door.
“Walk right in,” he said hospitably, making a low bow. “I’ll go find Miss Rose.”
Mr. Stuart’s party entered a wide hall that seemed shrouded in impenetrable gloom. On the walls hung rows of family portraits. The place was inexpressibly dismal. The “Automobile Girls” kept close to Mr. Stuart. In silence they waited for the appearance of the mistress of the house.
Two candles flickered in the dark hallway. Out of the gloom emerged an old lady, followed by her two servants, who were bearing the lights. She was small and very fragile. She wore a gray silk gown of an old fashioned cut. Her dress was ornamented with a bertha and cuffs of Duchess lace.
The old lady advanced and held out her small hand. “I am pleased to offer you shelter,” she declared to Mr. Stuart. “Jim has explained your predicament to me. We shall be onlytoo happy to have you stay with us for the night.”
At the word “we,” the “Automobile Girls” exchanged frightened glances. Their hostess was alone. But that one word “we” explained the situation. Did she mean that all the ghosts of her past still waited in the house to welcome unexpected visitors?
“It has been many years since we have had guests in our home,” continued Miss Thorne. “But I think we have rooms enough to accommodate you.”
Chloe conducted Miss Sallie, Madame de Villiers, the Countess Sophia and the four “Automobile Girls” into a great parlor. The room was furnished with old fashioned elegance. Candles burned on the high mantel shelves. But the dim lights could not dispel the shadow of desolation that pervaded the great room.
A few minutes later Miss Thorne entered the room. “You must tell me your names,” she inquired sociably. “I wish to run upstairs and tell Mama about you. Poor Mama is an invalid or she would come down to see you.”
Then calling Chloe to her, she said in a loud whisper:
“Notify Miss Lucy and Master Tom at once. Papa can wait. He is busy in the library.”
An uncanny silence followed Miss Thorne’sspeech. Every one of the seven women looked unhappy and Mr. Stuart tried vainly to conceal a sense of uneasiness. But Chloe quietly beckoned the party from the room.
“I’ll jes’ show the ladies upstairs,” she explained gently and her mistress made no objection.
Miss Sallie would on no account sleep alone in such a dismal house. She shared a large chamber with Ruth and Bab. The countess asked to spend the night with Mollie and Grace, and Madame de Villiers, who was afraid of nothing, had a room to herself. Mr. Stuart went up to the third floor.
“Let us talk and laugh and try to be cheerful, girls,” proposed the countess. “This poor old soul is quite harmless, I believe, and she seems very sad. Perhaps we may be able to cheer her a little.”
“All right, my lovely countess,” replied Mollie. “Ghosts or no ghosts, we will do our best. But don’t count on me for much merriment. I’m a dreadful coward.” Mollie looked over her shoulder with a shudder.
The countess and Grace laughed, but quickly their laugh died.
The sound of weird music floated up through the dark hall. Their hostess, Miss Thorne, was playing the tall harp that stood in the parlor.
“Goodness!” cried Miss Sallie, “what will that poor soul do next? I should not be in the least surprised if the entire departed family were given places at supper to-night.” Which was exactly what happened. Four empty chairs were left at the table.
“Miss Thorne,” said Mr. Stuart, when they were all seated, “could you not be persuaded to visit the outer world? It would give my sister and me much pleasure if you would spend a few days with us at Palm Beach.”
A spark of pleasure lit up the hostess’s faded eyes for an instant. Then she shook her head sadly.
“You are most kind, sir, but I am much needed at home. Lucy, my sister, is quite delicate, you see. And Mama is an invalid.”
Miss Sallie touched her brother’s foot under the table, as a signal to keep away from dangerous topics. But what topic was not dangerous?
“How charmingly you play the harp, Miss Thorne,” ventured the countess, when they had somewhat recovered themselves.
“Ah,” exclaimed the poor woman, smiling archly, “you must praise the right person, my dear. It was my sister Lucy who was playing.”
Miss Sallie dropped her fork with a loudclatter, while Mollie slipped her hand into the countess’s and the other three girls linked their feet under the table, girl fashion.
Jim, who, in an old black coat, was waiting on the table, smiled grimly and mumbled to himself.
“But, young ladies,” cried Miss Thorne, “you are not eating.”
As a matter of fact the supper was delicious; biscuits as light as snow flakes, broiled sea trout, potatoes roasted in their jackets and preserves in delicate cut glass bowls. But who could enjoy a banquet under such conditions? The two candles seemed to accentuate the blackness of the shadows which gathered at the edges of the room. The guests tried to laugh and talk, but gradually gloomy silence settled upon them. Miss Thorne appeared to have forgotten where she was and Mr. Stuart observing the uneasiness of the whole party remarked that as they had had a long day it would be well to retire early.
As they were about to rise from the table a sudden exclamation from the countess who sat at the lower end of the table caused all eyes to turn toward her in startled inquiry. She was staring at the open window in fascinated terror, unable for the moment to do anything save point to the opening which was swathed in shadows.
“A horrible old man!” she at last managed to articulate. “I saw him looking in at us!”
“What old man?” demanded Mr. Stuart.
“He was white haired and looked like a great ape,” she gasped.
“Why that’s the man whom I drove out of your room the other night, Countess,” exclaimed Bab. “What can his object be in following you?”
“Come, my man,” commanded Mr. Stuart, turning to the engineer who sat beside him, “and you too, Jim, we’ll search the grounds. I believe that this formidable old man can tell us something about the wrecking of the engine. Let’s get after him at once!”
Old Jim lost no time in procuring lanterns, and a thorough search of the grounds was made. The women meantime remained in the dining room, but now that the first effects of their fright had worn off, they prepared to give their fearsome intruder a warm reception should he again show himself. Madame de Villiers moved her chair to one side of the open window, her heavy cane in both hands, ready for instant use. While Barbara took up her station at the other side grasping firmly the heavy silver teapot that had been in the Thorne family for generations. Ruth guarded the door at one end, brandishing ferociously a heavy carving knifeshe had appropriated from a set on the old fashioned side-board, while Mollie, bravely, held the fort, at the other door with the fork. The countess half laughing, half shuddering, clung to a heavy cut glass water bottle, while Miss Sallie had prepared to meet the enemy with a huge bottle of cayenne pepper, which she had taken from the old-fashioned silver castor.
The Countess Pointed Toward the Open Window.
The Countess Pointed Toward the Open Window.
“There is nothing like being prepared,” said Ruth with a hysterical laugh, after ten minutes had passed, and the enemy had not shown himself. “I’m going to get a chair and be comfortable.” Mollie followed suit, and the watchers sat valiantly alert, as the minutes dragged by.
Miss Thorne chattered voluably to and about her family, paying very little attention to her strangely-behaved guests, while Chloe, the old servant, huddled in one corner, her eyes rolling with fright at every sound she heard.
At last the welcome sound of men’s voices was heard and Mr. Stuart, followed by the engineer and old Jim, entered at Mollie’s door.
“What kind of desperado organization is this?” he exclaimed, laughing in spite of himself at the ludicrous appearance this feminine vigilant committee made.
“It’s war to the knife,” cried Ruth.
“And the fork, too, I should say,” laughedher father, “also the teapot, and—what on earth are you cherishing so fondly, Sallie?”
“Cayenne pepper,” responded Miss Sallie, “and I consider myself well armed, at that.”
“I should rather think so,” agreed her brother. “However you are all safe in laying down your arms, for we have searched diligently, and can find no trace of the intruder. He evidently heard the countess and made a quick get away. You must pardon us, Madam, for stirring up your quiet home in this manner,” he said, bowing to Miss Thorne. “I trust we shall meet with no further disagreeable adventures.”
“You have not disturbed either Lucy or me in the least,” declared the demented old woman graciously. “As for Papa and Mama they dearly love to have visitors.” She smiled sweetly and at once began a one-sided conversation with her departed parents.
“Do take us away from her,” whispered Ruth to her father. “She has been addressing the shades of her family ever since you left us, and it’s getting on our nerves.”
“With your kind permission, Miss Thorne, we shall retire,” said Mr. Stuart, and the seven tired women gladly followed him through the shadowy hall and up the wide stairs, to their respective sleeping rooms.