CHAPTER XXBARBARA AND BEAUTY
“Barbara, you are eating very little luncheon,” Ralph Ewing whispered in Bab’s ear.
Ambassador and Mrs. Morton were entertaining a large number of friends in the dining-room of the clubhouse.
Maud Warren smiled patronizingly across the table at Barbara.
“Are you nervous about our riding this afternoon?” Maud asked. “Mr. Heller, do please pass Miss Thurston those sandwiches. She must want something to keep up her courage.”
Kind-hearted Franz Heller hurriedly presented Bab with all the good things he could reach.
“Thank you, Mr. Heller,” said Barbara, gratefully. Her cheeks were crimson; her brown eyes flashed, but she made no reply. Mollie, who knew Bab’s quick temper, wondered how her sister controlled herself.
A horn blew to announce that the luncheon hour was ended.
“Run along, child,” Miss Stuart called nervously to Bab. “Now, do, pray be careful! Ishall certainly be glad when this riding contest is over.”
While the guests of the Society Circus were at luncheon the field had been arranged for the hurdle-jumping.
Inside the green meadow four short length fences had been set up, a quarter of a mile apart. The girls were to ride around the field on their horses and jump the four hurdles.
Besides Bab and Maud Warren, four other Lenox girls had entered for this race. The riders were all skilled horsewomen.
Ambassador Morton waved his hand to Bab as she cantered by him on his little horse, Beauty. Her friends called out their good wishes. Bab smiled and nodded. She never looked so well or so happy as when she was on the back of a horse.
Ambassador Morton cautioned the girls before they started for their ride. “Remember, this is just a friendly contest,” he urged. “We merely want to see you young people ride. No one may allow her horse to cross too close in front of another horse. Two of you must not try to jump the hurdle at the same time.”
The six girls cantered bravely down the field.
Maud Warren and Bab rode side by side. Barbara was the youngest and smallest of thegirls, but she rode her little horse as though she were a part of it.
“Don’t sit too closely in your saddle,” Maud Warren leaned over and spoke patronizingly to Barbara.
“Thank you!” Bab replied.
The girls were now riding swiftly across the meadow.
Ralph, Hugh, Ruth, Mollie and Grace left their places and hurried down to the fence that inclosed the riding ring.
At the first fence two of the horses refused to jump. The other four sprang easily over the bars.
By the rules of the contest, the girls were not allowed to urge their horses, so the two riders went quietly back.
At the second hurdle, another horse faltered. This left the riding contest to Bab, Maud Warren, and a Lenox girl, Bertha Brokaw.
Barbara was as gay and happy as possible. She had no thought of fear in riding. Beauty was a splendid little horse accustomed to being ridden across country. The beautiful little animal jumped over the low bars as easily as if she were running along the ground.
Bertha Brokaw was the first of the three girls to go over the third hurdle. Bab was close behind her.
Barbara had just risen in her saddle. “Go it, Beauty!” she whispered, gently.
At this instant, Maud Warren gave a smart cut to her horse and crossed immediately in front of Bab.
Beauty reared on her hind feet. Barbara and the horse swayed an instant in the air.
Miss Stuart rose from the chair where she sat. Mrs. Morton gave a gasp. A sudden terror shook all the spectators. Poor Mollie turned sick and faint. She imagined her beloved Bab crushed beneath a falling horse.
But Barbara was not conscious of anything but Beauty. As her little horse rose trembling on its hind feet Bab remembered to keep her reins slack. With one pull on the horse’s tender mouth, she and Beauty would have gone over backwards.
“Steady, Beauty! Steady!” she cried. The horse ceased to tremble, and a moment later stood on all four feet again.
In the meantime Maud Warren had cleared the third fence and was riding across the field. Not a sound of applause followed her. But as Beauty, with Barbara still cool and collected, sprang easily over the hurdle, loud applause rang out.
“Bully for Bab!” cried Ralph, shaking Ruth’s hand in his excitement.
“What a trick! I didn’t think Maud Warren capable of it,” protested Dorothy to her father.
Bertha Brokaw’s horse was tired. She did not finish the mile course.
Now again Barbara rode side by side with Miss Warren. Just before the last jump Bab reined in a little. She remembered the Ambassador’s instructions. This was only a riding match, not a racing contest. No two girls were allowed to jump a hurdle at the same time.
So Barbara gave Maud Warren the first opportunity to make the jump. But Maud was nervous; she realized she had taken an unfair advantage of Bab. Her horse refused to jump. Bab waited only an instant. Then, urging Beauty on, they rose over their last hurdle like swallows.
Barbara came cantering back to her friends, her cheeks rosy, her eyes shining with delight.
Franz Heller rushed forward with a big bunch of American Beauty roses. Flowers were the only prizes given during the day. Barbara slid down off her horse.
The Ambassador moved forward to shake hands with her; Bab’s friends were waving their handkerchiefs; but Bab had eyes for Beauty only. A stable boy had come to lead the horse away.
Barbara and Beauty Swayed an Instant in the Air.
“Good-bye, you little Beauty!” Bab whispered, with her brown head close to the horse’s face. “You are the dearest little horse in the world. Don’t I wish you were my very own!”
Ambassador Morton overheard Bab’s speech.
“Let me give the horse to you, Miss Thurston,” he urged. “It will give me the greatest pleasure, if you will allow it. He ought to belong to you for the pretty piece of riding you did out in the field. Let me congratulate you. Beauty’s compliments and mine to the young girl who has been her own riding teacher.”
A warm wave of color swept over Barbara’s face. “I did not mean you to overhear me, Mr. Morton,” she declared. “Forgive me. Of course I couldn’t accept your horse. But I do appreciate your kindness. Thank you for lending me Beauty to ride.”
Bab took her roses from Mr. Heller and made her way to Miss Stuart.
“Child!” protested Miss Sallie, “sit down! I shall ask your mother never to let you ride a horse again unless you promise never to try to jump over another fence rail. Oh, what I went through, when I thought you were about to fall off that horse!” Miss Stuart raised both hands in horror. “There ought to be a law against riding masters being allowed to teach women to jump over hurdles.”
“But the law wouldn’t act against Bab, auntie,” declared Ruth, who was feeling very vain over Bab’s success. “Because, you know, Barbara never took a riding lesson in her life.”
In a short time Miss Stuart took her party home.
Ralph and Hugh were to return to New Haven on the night train.
“Miss Sallie,” begged Mollie, as they made their way through the crowd, “there is Mr. Winthrop Latham.Doask him to come to tea with you to-morrow.”
“But why, my child?” Miss Sallie naturally inquired.
“Please, ask just him, not his nephew, Reginald. Do, Aunt Sallie, dear. I can’t tell you why, now, but I shall explain as soon as we get home.”
“Very well, you funny little girl.” And Miss Stuart complied with Mollie’s request.
Mr. Winthrop Latham promised to call on Miss Stuart and her girls at their hotel the next afternoon at four o’clock.
CHAPTER XXIEUNICE AND MR. WINTHROP LATHAM
“Ruth, may I go with you to get Eunice?” Mollie Thurston asked next day.
“Certainly, Mollie. Are not the four of us going? We want to bring little Eunice back to the hotel in style. We have had a hard enough time getting hold of her. Her old Indian grandmother would not have let us have the child if it had not been for Naki. The Indian woman seems really to be attached to Ceally and Naki.”
“I am going to ask you a weeny little favor, Ruth. I won’t tell you why I ask you now; but I will tell you as soon as we are in the automobile. Don’t ask Bab to come with us for Eunice,” Mollie entreated.
“Don’t ask Bab? Why, Mollie!” protested Ruth, in surprise. “Bab’s feelings would be dreadfully hurt if I did not ask her.”
“No, they won’t, Ruth. I have already talked to Aunt Sallie. She told Bab she wanted her to stay in the house this morning. Aunt Sallie thinks Barbara is tired from her ride yesterday.”
“Oh, very well, Mollie, I won’t urge Babto come with us, then; though I can’t understand why you don’t want her along. I shall be glad when you explain the mystery to me,” Ruth concluded.
“That is why I wish to drive over with you. Sh! Aunt Sallie is coming. Don’t say anything before her.”
“Ruth,” explained Mollie, as the three girls were hurrying toward Pittsfield in their motor car, “I want to tell you why I did not wish Bab to come along with us to the hospital for Eunice. I don’t know what you and Grace may think of me; but I intend to try an experiment.”
“An experiment, Mollie!” Grace exclaimed. “What experiment do you intend to try?”
“Well girls,” Mollie continued, “do you recall that Bab went driving, a few days ago, with Reginald Latham, Mr. Winthrop Latham and Aunt Sallie?”
Ruth and Grace both nodded.
“And you remember Bab said she was going to discover, on that drive, what connection Eunice had with the Latham family?”
“Yes,” Grace assented. “Do hurry on to the point of your story.”
“No; you must hear it all over again,” Mollie protested. “I want you and Ruth to remember just exactly the story Bab told us. Reginald Latham did not wish the subject of Eunice mentionedbefore his uncle, because Mr. Winthrop Latham’s oldest brother had married an Indian girl. It seems the brother met the Indian girl while he was studying the history of the Indians in this neighborhood; so he just married her without mentioning the fact to his family. Of course the Lathams, who were very rich and very distinguished, were heart-broken over the marriage. And I guessed they were not any too good to the poor little Indian woman, when Mr. William Latham brought her back to his home to live. As soon as her husband died, she ran away to her own people. When Mr. Winthrop Latham tried to find her some time afterwards, to give her her husband’s property, it seems that the Indian wife was dead. At any rate Reginald declares this to be the case. From that day to this, the Latham family never speak of anything that even relates to Indians.” Mollie ended her speech in a slightly scornful tone.
“Why, Mollie, don’t you think that is a good enough explanation of Reginald Latham’s attitude toward Eunice?” Ruth asked.
“I most certainly do not!” Miss Mollie replied. “And how do you explain the Indian squaw’s feeling against the name of Latham?”
“Oh, Bab told us, Reginald explained all that to her, too. It seems that the Indians in this vicinity believed poor little Mrs. Latham hadbeen persecuted by her husband’s family. So, if this old squaw ever heard the story, Latham would be an evil name to her,” Grace put in.
Mistress Mollie shrugged her shoulders. “I think that story is very unlikely. But, maybe, you believe it, just as Bab did. All I ask of you is—just be on the look-out to-day! I have been doing a little detective work myself. I do not agree with Bab’s explanation. I told you I was going to try an experiment, and I want you to help me. Then maybe, I can convince you, Bab, and Aunt Sallie of something that I believe! I am sure our little Indian Eunice has a closer connection with the Latham family than any of you dream!”
“Dear me, but you are interesting, Mollie!” interrupted Ruth. “I have a suspicion of what you mean. But go ahead, little Miss Sherlock Holmes! We are with you to the end. We shall be delighted to render any humble assistance necessary to your detective work.”
“I only want you to watch developments this afternoon, girls!” Mollie asserted mysteriously. “Later on, there may be some real work for us to do. So far, I have planned everything myself.”
“Well, Mollie, you are a nice one!” laughed Grace. “Kindly ‘put us on,’ as the saying goes. What have you planned?”
“Nothing but a meeting between Eunice and Mr. Winthrop Latham,” Mollie responded. “We are to take Eunice to the hotel to spend the day with us. She will be looking her best in the lovely clothes Ruth sent to her. And she has grown almost fair from her weeks in the hospital. Mr. Winthrop Latham is to have tea with us this afternoon. I asked Aunt Sallie to invite nobody but him. I shall bring Eunice quietly in, introduce her to Mr. Latham: then we shall see what happens! I did not wish to tell Bab my plan,” Mollie continued, “because she might make me give it up. But I believe Aunt Sallie agrees with me, though she did give me a scolding for having a suspicious nature! She declared, this morning, that it would be very well to have Mr. Winthrop Latham see Eunice. So just let’s wait, and watch with all our eyes this afternoon.”
“Bully for your experiment, Mollie!” nodded Grace. Ruth bowed her head to show how fully she agreed with both of the girls.
A pretty hospital nurse brought Eunice out to Ruth’s motor car. The child had on a soft ecru dress, cut low at the throat and simply made. She wore a brown coat, lined with scarlet, and a big brown felt hat with a scarf knotted loosely around it.
And Eunice looked very lovely! Her hairwas braided in two plaits, tied with soft scarlet ribbons. Her eyes were big and black with the excitement of entering a strange world. Her complexion was now only a little darker than olive. Her cheeks were like two scarlet flames.
Eunice hugged Mollie close, once she was seated in the automobile. When the big car started, she laughed gleefully, clapping her hands as she cried. “It is truly a red bird, that carries us on its wings!” She remembered what Ruth had told her.
“Always Eunice has longed for wings like the birds!” Eunice whispered softly to Mollie. “Now, behold! We are almost flying!”
“Look overhead, Mollie, Eunice, Ruth!” called Grace suddenly.
The four girls looked up.
A great white object sailed above them.
Eunice clutched Mollie. “Is it the great white spirit, my grandmother has told me about?” she inquired.
“Oh, that is Reginald Latham in his airship,” Mollie explained to Grace. “He said the rudder of Mr. Latham’s balloon had been mended. He meant to try some short flights to see if it was all right.”
“But I do not understand!” Eunice protested. “Is a man riding on that great, great big bird?”
“Yes, Eunice,” Mollie assented. “But that object above our heads is an airship, not a bird.”
“Then I wish to ride in an airship,” Eunice murmured. “It flies up in the air like a real bird. This car runs only along the earth.” The child was no longer impressed with the automobile. Reginald Latham’s airship was the most marvelous thing she had ever beheld.
After arriving at their hotel “The Automobile Girls” showed Eunice everything they could find to amuse her. They rode up and down with her in the elevator. They gave her a peep into the hotel’s splendid reception rooms. Poor little Eunice was in a daze! She wandered about like a child in a dream. Every now and then she would ask Mollie some question in regard to Reginald Latham’s airship. She had not forgotten it.
Miss Stuart wisely had luncheon served in the private sitting-room. She did not think it best for Eunice to be seen by so many people; besides, she did not know how Eunice would behave at the table.
To Miss Sallie’s unspeakable relief the child had learned at the hospital to eat with a knife and fork. Her manners were those of a frightened child. She was neither noisy nor vulgar.
“The child is certainly an enigma!” MissStuart said to herself, half a dozen times during the morning. “What the doctor says is true! The child is almost refined. It is marvelous! In spite of her ignorance, she does nothing to offend one!”
After luncheon, Miss Stuart noticed that Eunice looked white and exhausted. The scarlet color had faded from her cheeks and lips. The little girl was not strong enough for so much excitement after her recent illness.
“Mollie,” Miss Sallie suggested, about half-past two o’clock, “take Eunice to your room. Give her a dressing gown, and see that she rests for an hour or so. You may stay with the child, Mollie, for fear she may be frightened, but you other girls keep away. The child is worn out. Mollie, you may bring her back to us at tea-time.”
Mollie agreed. She guessed that Miss Sallie was furthering her idea about the experiment.
“Remember, Bab, you have promised me to be here at tea-time,” Mollie reminded her sister.
“Certainly, I shall be here, Mollie. Did you think I was going away?”
Mollie then took Eunice away to lie down.
The child was so tired she soon fell asleep on Mollie’s bed.
Mollie sat thinking quietly by the darkened window. She had taken a deep fancy to littleEunice, who had seemed to cling to her since their first strange meeting.
Barbara and Mollie Thurston were both unusually thoughtful girls. Their mother’s devoted companions for years, their poverty had made them understand more of life. Mollie realized it would not do for Eunice to grow up ignorant and wild, with only her old grandmother for a companion. The little Indian was already thirsting for a different life. And, some day, the grandmother would die. What would then become of Eunice?
A little before four o’clock Eunice awakened, having slept nearly two hours. She was refreshed and happy again.
Mollie made Eunice bathe her face. She herself fixed the child’s hair, now smooth and glossy from the care that the nurses at the hospital had given to it.
“We will go back to see our friends now, Eunice,” explained Mollie.
Eunice nodded. “It is wonderful here where you live!” she declared. “Sometimes I think I have dreamed of people like you and your friends. I think I have seen things like what you have here in this house. But how could I dream of what I knew nothing?”
Mollie shook her head thoughtfully. “Eunice, dear, you will have to ask a wiserperson than I am about your dreams. Who knows what may be stored away in that little head of yours? Come, dear, let us put your gold chain on the outside of your dress. There can be no harm in that. I think Miss Sallie, the lady with the white hair, would like to look at it.”
Eunice, who had a girl’s fancy for pretty ornaments, was glad to have Mollie pull the chain out from under her dress. The curious, beautiful ornament shone glittering and lovely against the light background formed by the child’s dress.
“Wait for me here, Eunice,” requested Mollie. “I want to go into the other room for a minute.”
Mollie peeped inside the sitting-room door.
Mr. Winthrop Latham was cosily drinking his tea in the best of humor. He had a decided liking for Miss Stuart and her “Automobile Girls.”
Bab was joking with Mr. Latham as she plied him with sandwiches and cakes.
For half a minute Mollie’s heart misgave her. She was afraid to try her experiment.
The Cup in Mr. Latham’s Hand Trembled.
“Good gracious!” she thought, finally, “what possible harm can it do Mr. Winthrop Latham to look at poor, pretty little Eunice? If the child means nothing to him, he will not even notice her. If she turns out to be the child I believe she is, why, then—then—it is only right that her uncle, Mr. Winthrop Latham, should know of her existence.”
“Come, now, Eunice!” cried Mollie. “Come into the sitting-room with me. The girls have some pretty cakes and sweet things they are saving for you.”
Mollie took Eunice’s hand. The two girls were nearly of the same size and age. They quietly walked into the sitting-room.
“Where is ‘Automobile Girl’ number four?” Mollie heard Mr. Latham ask, just as the two girls entered the room.
“Here I am!” Mollie replied.
Mr. Latham glanced up. His ruddy face turned white as chalk.
Mollie never took her eyes from Mr. Latham’s face. Miss Stuart, Bab, Grace and Ruth stared at him.
But Mr. Latham did not notice any one of them. His jaw dropped. The cup in his hand trembled. Still he did not speak.
Barbara broke the silence. “Mr. Latham, are you ill?” she asked. “May I take your teacup from you?”
Mr. Latham shook his head. He continued to gaze steadily at Eunice.
Little Eunice was frightened by the strangeman’s stare. She trembled. Her rosebud lips quivered. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Come to me, Eunice,” Ruth called comfortingly. “See the candies I have been saving for you! Mr. Latham, this is the little Indian girl who was hurt. You remember that we have spoken of her before?”
“Will some one take the child away?” Mr. Latham asked, brokenly.
Mollie led Eunice back to her bedroom. Then she hurried in again to rejoin the others.
“Miss Stuart, I owe you and your girls an explanation for my strange conduct,” Mr. Latham declared. “I feel, this afternoon, that I have seen a ghost! I do not understand this Indian child’s likeness to my dead sister-in-law. I must seek an explanation somewhere. This little Eunice is the living image of my brother’s Indian wife—the poor girl whom our cruelty drove from our home back to the tents of her own people to die. I was told that her little child died with her. There is a mystery here that must be solved. If this little girl is the daughter of my brother and his Indian wife, one-half of my fortune belongs to her.”
“Mr. Latham,” Miss Stuart quietly interrupted him, “this Indian child has an old grandmother who will be able to tell you whether this child has any connection with you.I have always thought there must be some explanation. The squaw has kept the child hidden for a purpose.”
“You are right, Miss Stuart,” Mr. Latham interrupted. “You tell me this child’s name is Eunice? Eunice was the name of my brother’s wife. It is also the Christian name for the female Indians of a certain tribe, but there is little doubt, in my mind, of this girl’s identity. The gold chain about her throat was my brother’s gift to his wife. That chain has the story of my brother’s love and courtship engraved on it in Indian characters. But I am too much upset to discuss the matter any further to-day. When can I see the Indian grandmother?”
“To-morrow,” Miss Stuart replied quietly. “I would not advise you to delay.”
“Will you go with me to see her at ten o’clock to-morrow morning, Miss Stuart?” queried Mr. Latham.
“Certainly,” Miss Sallie agreed.
“I beg of you then not to mention what has taken place in this room this afternoon,” Mr. Latham urged. “When we know the truth in regard to this child it will be time to tell the strange story. Good-bye until to-morrow morning.”
“Mollie,” Bab cried as soon as the door closed on Mr. Latham, “I surrender. And Ihumbly beg your pardon. You are a better detective than I am. What is the discovery of the Boy Raffles compared with your bringing to light the family history of poor little Eunice! Just think, instead of being a poor, despised Indian girl, Eunice is heiress to a large fortune.”
“Then you believe in me now, Bab!” Mollie rejoined. “I have always thought Eunice was in some way connected with the Latham family.”
“Girls,” Miss Stuart cautioned quietly, “when you take Eunice to her grandmother, at Naki’s house, say nothing. Remember, you are to speak to no one of what happened this afternoon.”
CHAPTER XXIITHE AUTOMOBILE WINS
Immediately after breakfast, next morning, “The Automobile Girls” started in Ruth’s car for Naki’s house in Pittsfield.
Miss Stuart had decided that it would be best to have Eunice out of the way when she and Mr. Latham made their call on the grandmother.
So the girls hurried off after Eunice.
They were in splendid spirits as they approached Naki’s house. No one of themdoubted, for an instant, that Mr. Winthrop Latham would find little Eunice was his niece.
“You run in and ask the grandmother whether Eunice may take a ride with us, Mollie,” Ruth suggested as she stopped her car. “If Naki is at home, ask him to step out here a minute. I want to prepare him for the call of Aunt Sallie and Mr. Latham.”
In three minutes Mollie flew out of the house again. She was alone. There was no sign of Eunice!
“O girls!” Mollie cried, “Eunice and her grandmother are gone!”
“Gone where?” Bab queried.
“Back to their own wigwam!” Mollie continued. “Last night Ceally says a woman, heavily veiled, came here, accompanied by a young man. They talked to the Indian woman and Eunice a long time. They told the squaw a man was in pursuit of her. He would come this morning to take her away. She was so frightened that Naki and Ceally could do nothing to influence her. She started with Eunice, last night, for their wigwam in the hills. Who do you think her visitors were?”
“Mrs. Latham and Reginald!” cried the other three girls at once.
“It is all so plain,” argued Ruth. “Mr. Latham probably told his sister, last night, that hehad seen Eunice, and meant to come here, this morning, and find out who the child really was. Mrs. Latham and Reginald then rushed here to get the squaw and the child out of the way until they could have time to plan.”
“But what shall we do now?” asked Mollie, her eyes full of tears. “I do not believe Mrs. Latham and Reginald will be content with sending Eunice and her grandmother back to their own hill. Mr. Latham could follow them up there. I know they will try to spirit Eunice away altogether. They will not wait. Oh, what, what can we do?”
“I know,” Ruth answered quietly.
“Have you any money, girls?” she inquired. “I have twenty-five dollars with me.”
“I have twenty with me,” Grace replied. “I have ten,” declared Bab. “And I have only five,” Mollie answered.
“Then we are all right for money,” said Ruth. “Naki,” she continued, turning to their guide, who had now come out to them, “I want you to give this note to Aunt Sallie and Mr. Latham when they come here. It will explain all. Tell them not to worry. I shall send a telegram before night.”
Taking a piece of paper from her pocket, Ruth hurriedly wrote a letter of some length.
“Now, let’s be off!” Ruth insisted.
“What are you going to do now, Ruth Stuart?” Mollie demanded.
“Why, what can we do,” Ruth replied, “except go straight up to the wigwam for Eunice and run away with her before anyone else can.”
“Run away with her!” faltered Grace.
“What else can we do?” queried Ruth. “If we delay in getting Eunice out of Mrs. Latham’s and Reginald’s clutches, they will place the child where no one can ever find her. Mrs. Latham will then persuade her brother to give up his search. We must save Eunice.”
“But what will Aunt Sallie say?” cried Barbara.
“I have written Aunt Sallie,” Ruth explained, “that we would take Eunice to a nearby town. We can telegraph Aunt Sallie from there.”
“But, suppose, Ruth,” Grace suggested, “the Indian grandmother will not let Eunice go with us.”
“Never mind, Grace,” Bab retorted, “‘The Automobile Girls’ must overcome obstacles. I believe the old grandmother will let Eunice come with us, if we tell her the whole story. We must explain that Mr. Winthrop Latham wants to see Eunice in order to be kind to her and not to harm her, and ask the squaw if Eunice is Mr. William Latham’s child. We must make her understandthat Mrs. Latham and Reginald are her enemies, we are her friends——”
“Is that all, Bab?” laughed Grace. “It sounds simple.”
“Never mind,” Mollie now broke in to the conversation, “I believe I can somehow explain matters to Mother Eunice.”
By noon “The Automobile Girls” were halfway up the hill that led to the wigwam.
Mollie, who was walking ahead, heard a low sound like a sob. Crouched under a tree, several yards away, was little Eunice. At the sight of Mollie she ran forward. A few feet from her she stopped. A look of distrust crossed her face.
“Why did you come here?” she asked in her old wild fashion.
“Why, Eunice,” Mollie asked quietly, “are you not glad to see your friends?”
At first, Eunice shook her head. Then she flung her arms around Mollie’s neck. “I want to give you that strange thing you called a kiss,” she said. “I am so glad to see you that my heart sings. But grandmother told me you meant to sell me to the strange man, who looked at me so curiously yesterday. So I came back up the hill with her. You would not sell me, would you? You are my friends?”
“Look into my eyes, Eunice,” Mollie whispered. “Do I look as though I meant to harmyou? You told me once that if you could see straight into the eyes of the creatures in the woods you would know whether their hearts were good. Is my heart good?”
“Yes, yes!” Eunice cried. “Forgive me.”
“But we want you to have a great deal of faith in us, Eunice,” Mollie persisted. “We want you to go away with us this very afternoon. Take us to your grandmother. We must ask her consent.”
Eunice shook her head. “I cannot go,” she declared, finally.
“But, Eunice, if you will only go with us, you can buy more pretty gold chains. You can buy beads and Indian blankets for your grandmother,” coaxed Grace. “Who knows? Some day you may even own a big, red bird like Ruth’s, and fly like ‘The Automobile Girls.’”
Still Eunice shook her head.
“But you will come with us, if your grandmother says you may?” Ruth urged.
“No,” Eunice declared. “I cannot.”
“Why, Eunice?” Mollie queried gently.
“Because,” said Eunice, “to-day I fly up in the sky!” The child pointed over her head.
“Why, the child is mad from her illness and the fatigue of her long walk up here,” Grace ejaculated in distress.
But Eunice laughed happily. “To-day I flylike the birds, high overhead. Long have I wished to go up into the big blue heaven away over the trees and the hilltops. To-day I shall fly away, truly!”
The girls stared at Eunice in puzzled wonder. They could understand nothing of the strange tale she told them. Was the child dreaming?
A light dawned upon Mollie.
“Girls!” Mollie cried, “Reginald Latham is going to take Eunice off in his airship!”
“Can it be possible?” Bab exclaimed.
“Eunice,” asked Mollie, “are you going for a ride in the big balloon I showed you yesterday as we rode away from the hospital?”
“Yes,” Eunice declared. “Last night the young man who came to Naki’s house talked with me. He whispered to me, that if I were good and did not tell my grandmother, he would take me to ride with him in his great ship of the winds. But he will bring me home to my own wigwam to-night. I will go with you in your carriage to-morrow. Now, I wait for the man to find me. He told me to meet him here, away from my grandmother’s far-seeing eyes.”
“Eunice,” Mollie commanded firmly, “come with me to your wigwam.”
“But you will tell my grandmother! Then she will not let me fly away!” Eunice cried.
“You cannot fly with Reginald Latham,Eunice,” Mollie asserted. “He will not bring you back again to the wigwam. He will leave you in some strange town, away from your own people. You will never see your grandmother. You will never see us again!”
Eunice, trembling, followed the other girls to the wigwam.
“I believe,” Bab said thoughtfully as they walked on, “that Reginald Latham planned to get Eunice away from this place forever. He did not mean to injure her. He would probably have put her in some school far away. But Mr. Winthrop Latham would never have seen her. Eunice would not then take half of the Latham fortune from Reginald. Just think! Who could ever trace a child carried away in an airship? She might be searched for if she went in trains or carriages, but no one but the birds could know of her flight through the air.”
The old grandmother heard “The Automobile Girls” approaching.
She was standing in front of a blazing fire. With a grunt of rage, the old woman seized a flaming pine torch and ran straight at Mollie.
“Put that down!” commanded Barbara, hotly. “You are a stupid old woman. We have come to save Eunice for you. Unless you listen to us she will be stolen from you this very afternoon. You will never see her again.There is no use in your trying to hide Eunice any longer. We know and her uncle knows, that she is the child of your daughter and of Mr. William Latham. You told Mr. Winthrop Latham that Eunice died when her mother did.” Barbara had depended on her imagination for the latter part of her speech, but she knew, now, that she had guessed the truth.
Under her brown leather-like skin the old squaw turned pale.
Then Mollie explained gently to the old woman that Mrs. Latham and Reginald were Eunice’s enemies; that they wished to be rid of Eunice so that they might inherit her father’s money. She told of Reginald Latham’s plan to carry Eunice away that afternoon.
“Now, Mother Eunice,” Mollie ended, “won’t you let little Eunice go away with us this afternoon, instead? We will take good care of her, and will bring her home to you in a few days. But Eunice must see her uncle, Mr. Winthrop Latham. You will not stand in the way of little Eunice’s happiness, I know!” Mollie laid her hand on the old squaw’s arm.
But the squaw had bowed her head. She did not notice Mollie.
“It is the end!” The old woman spoke to herself. “I give up my child. The white blood is stronger than the Indian. She will return tothe race of her father. Her mother’s people shall know her no more.”
“May Eunice go away with us now?” Ruth urged. “And won’t you go down to the village, and stay with Naki and Ceally until Eunice comes back?”
“Take the child, when you will,” assented the Indian woman. “She is mine no longer.”
“Then come, hurry, Eunice. We must be off,” Bab cried.
Eunice got her new coat and hat. Then she flung her arms around her grandmother, and kissed her in the way Mollie had taught her.
The old Indian woman hugged the child to her for one brief instant; then she relaxed her hold and went back into her wigwam.
“The Automobile Girls” and Eunice ran down the hill.
In half an hour they found “Mr. A. Bubble.” He was patiently awaiting their return.
“Jump into the car in a hurry,” Ruth cried. “Put Eunice in the middle. We have a long distance to travel before night falls.”
The girls leaped into the automobile. It sped away through the autumnal woods.
“Look, do look up above us!” Mollie exclaimed.
Away above their heads something white sailed and circled in the air.
“It is Reginald Latham in his airship,” cried Grace.
“Well, Mr. Reginald Latham,” laughed Mollie, “an airship may do the business of the future; but for present purposes I’ll bet on the automobile.”
For hours “The Automobile Girls” drove steadily on. The roads were well marked with signposts. Ruth wished to make a nearby town away from the main line of travel.
At dusk they arrived in North Adams.
Ruth drove at once to a telegraph office, where she telegraphed to Miss Sallie: “Safe in North Adams with Eunice. Had a fine trip. Expect you and Mr. Latham in the morning. All is well. Do not worry. Ruth.”
Ruth and her friends put up at the Wilson House in North Adams. They explained to the hotel proprietor that they were staying in Lenox. Their aunt would join them the next day.
Five weary girls slept the sleep of the just.
CHAPTER XXIIITHE RECOGNITION
Miss Stuart and Mr. Winthrop Latham did not arrive in North Adams the next morning.
A little before noon, Miss Sallie telegraphedto Ruth: “Must see Indian woman before we join you. Proof of child’s identity required. Wait.”
Ruth showed her telegram to the girls.
Barbara shook her head. “More of the work of Mrs. Latham and Reginald,” she suggested.
Soon after the receipt of Ruth’s telegram, the afternoon before, Miss Stuart telephoned Mr. Winthrop Latham, “Will you please come to the hotel to see me immediately?”
Now, Miss Sallie realized her difficult position. How was she to protect the interests of Eunice without accusing Mr. Latham’s relatives of evil designs against the child?
She called up Naki in Pittsfield and told him to come to her hotel that evening. “Naki can tell Mr. Latham what I cannot,” Miss Sallie reflected. “He can report the visit of Mrs. Latham and Reginald to the Indian squaw, and can make Mr. Latham see his sister’s intentions.”
Mr. Latham arrived first for the interview with Miss Stuart. He looked worn and tired.
“My ‘Automobile Girls’ have run off with Eunice!” Miss Stuart at once informed him.
“Why should there be any running away with the child?” Mr. Latham asked impatiently. “I could very easily have gone up to the wigwam in the morning. I think, in many respects, it will be wisest to see the Indian woman and child on their own ground. To tell you the truth, MissStuart, I shall require positive proofs that this Indian girl is the child that my brother’s Indian wife carried away from our home years ago.”
“Certainly, Mr. Latham,” Miss Stuart replied quietly. “I entirely agree with you; but I think it may be possible to secure such proofs.”
“I have been talking to my sister and nephew of this child,” Mr. Latham continued. “They regard the idea that this little Eunice is the daughter of my brother’s wife as absurd. They recalled the fact that we were positively assured of the child’s death. They do not believe it possible that the Indian relatives would not have claimed the child’s fortune for her. There were a number of educated Indians living in the town of Stockbridge at the time. My brother’s wife took refuge with them after leaving us.”
“Then, Mr. Latham,” Aunt Sallie rejoined, “if the Indian grandmother cannot give you satisfactory proofs of the child’s parentage, possibly you can find the additional proofs in Stockbridge.”
Mr. Latham was silent. He had not been sorry to be persuaded by Mrs. Latham and Reginald that Eunice was an impostor.
Naki knocked at the door.
“I would rather not see visitors, Miss Stuart,” Mr. Latham declared. “I am entirely upset by this present situation.”
“It is only our Indian guide, Naki,” Miss Sallie explained. “I sent for him.”
“Naki,” Miss Sallie began, as soon as the man entered the room. “My niece has taken Eunice away for a few days. She told me to ask you to go up to the wigwam and bring the Indian woman down to your house again.”
Naki shut his lips together. “The Indian woman will not return to my house,” he said.
“Why not?” Miss Stuart asked, angrily. “It is much better for her to be with you. She will die up there.”
“She wishes to die up there,” Naki avowed.
“Nonsense!” retorted Miss Stuart. “We cannot let her suffer so because of the child.”
“She is afraid to come down the hill again,” Naki continued. “She is afraid of the law.”
“Why should she be afraid of the law?” inquired Mr. Latham.
“I cannot tell,” Naki replied; “but the woman who came to my house with her son told the old squaw she must hide. If her secret was discovered she would be sent to prison.”
“What woman and her son came to your house to see this squaw?” asked Mr. Latham.
Miss Sallie sat with her hands tightly clasped, scarcely daring to breathe. She had not dared to hope that her plan would work out so well.
“I do not know the lady,” said Naki sullenly.“But the young man was Reginald Latham. He was on the hill the day Eunice was hurt. He went with us to the Indian woman’s wigwam. She was angry at his coming.” Naki paused.
Mr. Winthrop Latham was frowning and looking down at the pattern of the carpet. Miss Stuart knew he realized that his sister and nephew were playing a double game which, for the time being, he preferred to ignore.
“Good-night, Miss Stuart,” said Mr. Latham, a few minutes later. “I shall join you in the morning. If the Indian woman is at Naki’s house, I will see her there; if not, I shall go to her wigwam. Notwithstanding all that has happened, she must have satisfactory proofs.”
Miss Stuart knew Mr. Latham now suspected that both his sister-in-law and nephew were convinced of Eunice’s identity.
“Naki,” Miss Sallie asked, “at daylight, to-morrow, will you go to the old squaw’s wigwam? Tell her that she shall not be punished,” continued Miss Stuart. “I am very sorry for her.”
Naki was looking at Miss Stuart. His solemn face expressed surprise. “Do you mean you have found out about Eunice?” he asked.
“Certainly, Naki,” Miss Stuart rejoined. “If you have known Eunice’s story, and have not told it before, you have behaved very badly. Tell the Indian woman to bring what proofsshe has to convince Mr. Latham that little Eunice is the child of her daughter.”
“I will,” Naki promised. “But I knowed of Eunice in another way. There is a man in Stockbridge as knows who the child is. He was a preacher once. He is part Indian, part white. He was with Eunice’s mother when she died. She told him about the child, but begged him to keep it a secret. The Indian mother did not want the child to go back to the Lathams. She was afraid they would be unkind to her baby. The man told me the story several years ago.”
Miss Sallie was deeply interested. “Naki, when you bring the squaw to your house in the morning, go to Stockbridge. Then find the man who knows the story of Eunice, and bring him, too.”
“You can count on me,” were Naki’s last words.
The next morning Miss Stuart and Mr. Latham drove to Naki’s home. Neither Naki nor the Indian woman was there!
Naki had left for the wigwam before five o’clock that morning. It was now ten. There was nothing to do but wait.
At eleven o’clock Miss Sallie sent her telegram to Ruth. At noon she and Mr. Latham still waited. There was no sign of Naki or the squaw.
“Don’t you think we had better go up to the wigwam?” Mr. Latham asked impatiently.
“We cannot find our way there without Naki or one of my girls,” Miss Sallie answered.
“What do you think has happened?” Miss Stuart asked Ceally. Ceally shook her head.
“Something is the matter,” she declared, “or Naki would have been here with the old woman hours ago.”
What had become of Naki?
At daylight he reached the hilltop, but no sound of life came from the silent tent.
Naki called to the Indian squaw. There was no answer. “I come to bring you news of Eunice!” he shouted. Still no answer.
He stalked inside the wigwam. The tent was deserted. The Indian woman had disappeared.
Naki was puzzled. He searched the woods near the tent.
Half way down the hill Naki came across a small wooden box, half covered with leaves. Naki opened it. In it he found half a dozen pieces of old jewelry, and an old fashioned daguerreotype of an Indian girl holding a baby in her arms.
Naki had been born and brought up in the woods. He kept his eyes turned to the ground, thinking to trace the footprints of Mother Eunice down the hill. On her departure she had,as she thought, buried her box of treasures. Then she had gone—where?
Naki discovered, midway on the hill, two pairs of footprints, which seemed to indicate that two persons had lately started up the hill. But they must have given up and gone down again.
Naki made up his mind to go at once to Stockbridge. Even though he could not trace the squaw, the testimony of the man who had seen Eunice’s mother die, the box of jewelry Naki had found—these proofs of Eunice’s identity would convince even Mr. Winthrop Latham.
Miss Stuart and Mr. Latham were at luncheon when Ceally entered the room. Miss Sallie knew, at once, something had happened.
“What is it, Ceally?” she asked.
“They have come!” said Ceally.
“Who?” Mr. Latham demanded.
“Naki, the Indian woman, and another man,” was Ceally’s reply. There was a short pause, and then the two entered.
Naki spoke first. He explained that he had found the Indian woman at Stockbridge when he had given her up for lost. Then she told in her own way that she had made up her mind to return to Stockbridge and ask help from the man who, alone, knew the story of her grandchild’s parentage. The old squaw had completely broken down. She said that she knew that itwas best for Eunice to be allowed to come into her inheritance. She said she remembered that Barbara had told her of Mrs. Latham and Reginald’s wish to keep Eunice concealed. She finished by telling that midway on the hill, in the early dawn, she had met Reginald Latham and his mother climbing up to her tent. The old squaw, who was wise, had told Mrs. Latham that there was one man in Stockbridge who could prove who Eunice was and that she would go and implore him to keep the child’s parentage a secret. Mrs. Latham and Reginald were delighted, and urged the old woman to go.
Mr. Latham listened quietly to Mother Eunice’s story and to that of the man from Stockbridge, who bore the old woman witness.
It was a simple story. The Indian grandmother thought her daughter had been unhappy because of her marriage into the Latham family, believing the girl had been persecuted because of her Indian blood. So she wished to spare her grandchild the same fate.
Mr. Latham was entirely convinced. Eunice was his niece.
“Come,” he said, finally, to Miss Stuart. “Let us be off to our girls!”
“Mother Eunice,” he said solemnly, shaking the old squaw’s hand, “I promise to be good to your child. You shall not be separated fromher. But she must be educated as other girls are. Stay here with Ceally and Naki.”
The Indian woman bowed her head. She had given in forever when she surrendered Eunice to “The Automobile Girls” the afternoon before.
But what about Eunice and her protectors? They had not dared to leave the hotel for fear that Aunt Sallie and Mr. Latham might arrive in their absence.
So the girls were waiting with the best patience possible, curled up in the chairs and on the sofa. Barbara was reading aloud. Little Eunice had fallen fast asleep on the bed.
Suddenly Miss Sallie and Mr. Latham walked in unannounced.
“Well, this is a cosy party!” declared Mr. Latham, smiling.
Bab dropped her magazine, Ruth sat up straight in her chair, while Mollie and Grace nearly rolled off their sofa.
Their noise wakened Eunice, who sat up in bed with her cheeks flushed. Her black hair was massed about her face. She wore a red dressing gown that Ruth had bought for her the night before. She was so pretty that Mr. Latham was moved by her appearance.
But Eunice was frightened when she saw Mr. Latham—he was the man who had stared at her so strangely—he was the man who meant tosteal her, so, at least, Reginald Latham had told Eunice. The little girl began to cry softly.
Mollie started up to go to Eunice, but she stopped at a frown from Miss Sallie. Mr. Latham was approaching Eunice.
“I am not going to hurt you, Eunice,” he declared. “Do I look like the bogie man, who lives in the woods and comes to steal away naughty children?”
Eunice shook her head. “There are no bogie men in the woods. Wood fairies are all good.”
“Well, I am no kind of fairy, Eunice. I am an uncle. Do you know what an uncle is?” Mr. Latham inquired.
Eunice shook her head again.
“O Eunice, an uncle can be the nicest person in the world!” Mollie exclaimed. “And that is what Mr. Latham is going to be to you. Kiss him, and tell him you mean to be good.”
Mr. Winthrop Latham and little Indian Eunice kissed each other shyly and solemnly. But in that kiss their affection was sealed.
What Reginald Latham and his mother thought of the discovery of the relationship between Eunice and Mr. Winthrop Latham may be easily imagined. Eunice as his niece would undoubtedly inherit a large portion of his fortune. And how was Reginald to be provided for? Bent on the effort to conceal the relationship, Reginaldand his mother had started long before dawn to walk up to the grandmother’s hut, and, as the old squaw had explained, had met her on the side of the hill. They had tried to induce her to give them the name of the man in Stockbridge who knew of Eunice’s parentage, but the old woman was obdurate. Failing in this, mother and son had returned to their home.