"Run along, sis," he advised, with the jollity that makes a brave boy ever a girl's hero. "I'll be after you with the others, and it will be no end of fun. Clip's going, and I'll try to have Paul and Hazel join—if Paul is fit. Then with Ed and Walter— Say, we will have the time of our young lives! Get in with Dr. Bennet, and I'll turn back and stop in front of the ice cream place. Of course, Reed or Roland will come along that way, and of course you will be inside eating frapped subpoenas."
Cora was now climbing in beside Dr. Bennet.
"And that is why that horrid man tried to get me to ride in town with him!" cried Cora. "He wanted to make me take those papers—"
"Certainly," interrupted Duncan. "But we have fooled him thus far. Be sure to come to the show, boys," this to Ed and Jack. "My crowd will be out there to-night, but I suppose we will not see the Chelton throng until to-morrow. Excuse haste—and a bad pen," he added, laughing, while Tom gave a signal on the horn. "This is the time we make a run against the law."
"Now, Tom," called Duncan Bennet to his chauffeur, after Clip had joined Cora, "you had better slow up some. The young ladies may want to find out whether or not they still wear hats." They had ridden fast and far.
"Oh!" exclaimed Clip, "I never had such a delightful ride. I suppose that is what you call being motor mad—going and going until you cannot go fast enough. They say it is a disease, isn't it, doctor?"
"I believe it is so defined," answered Duncan with mock dignity. "But we are not to talk disease, if you please, young lady," and he smiled a command which might easily be interpreted to mean: "You must rest from that sort of thing for a while."
Cora turned to look back over the dusty road. Her face, usually alive to every mood, was strangely set—as if too anxious to venture a change of expression. Duncan from the front seat saw her look.
"Oh, he is not coming," he said. "No need to worry now. We are across the State line."
"I never was so frightened in my life," admitted Cora. "Not that I was afraid of going to court, but I was mortally afraid we would not be able to make the run in time. I should have known better, however, for Tom had qualified before to-day."
"Tom knows just how fast this machine ought to go," added Duncan. "I don't mind Tom hearing it, either."
The chauffeur smiled in acknowledgment to the compliment. It had been a hard run, and the Chelton lawyer had only turned back at the last mile post.
"Wonder where that motor-cycle officer is now?" remarked Cora. "I meanConstable Hanna."
"Oh, he's out having a good time on what he earned this morning," answered Duncan. "One hold-up in a day is plenty for Hanna."
"I have scarcely had a chance to speak to you, Clip," Cora began, as her nervousness vanished. "I am so glad to see you."
"Well, you have been looking whole vocabularies at me, Cora, in many and various languages," said Clip in her own inimitable way. "I have been wondering whether you had turned into a Sphynx or just Liberty."
"But, Clip, I did have a fright. Suppose I should have had to give up the run, and go to that stuffy old courtroom!"
"Well, I am glad you didn't," answered Clip sincerely. "I do think that a courtroom is about the meanest place I have ever visited—and I have been in a lot of queer places. And the girls," went on Clip. "Whatever will they say to you two runaways?"
"What won't they say?" replied Duncan. "I am not to blame, of course.Miss Cora simply inveigled me into allowing her to ride with me—"
"I saw Reed pass over the back country road a moment ago," interruptedTom. "I might guess where he is going."
"Where?" asked the trio in a breath.
"To that junk shop on the turnpike," replied Tom. "He seems to think the shop is haunted with a valuable ghost. He goes out there almost daily."
"You mean the antique shop?" asked Cora. "Oh, I know. He is after a table. I am sure it is he who has given the order—" She stopped—her finger on her lip. Tom seemed to know so much—what if he should know about the missing table? "Have you any idea what he is after?" asked Cora directly.
"Well, I ought to know," replied Tom, "for he has made no secret of it. He has searched every attic from Breakwater to Moreland. I caught an old junk dealer in our barn the other morning, and while I watched him get down the road I saw Reed come along. Of course, he had hired the man to search where he himself could not go. He is after some sort of ancient rustic table, I believe."
Clip and Cora exchanged meaning looks. Cora had not for a moment forgotten about the antique man's promise to have the original table in a few days. She was to see this and then—
"We are not out of the woods yet," remarked Clip. "I am thinking, Duncan, that you have undertaken a large contract. You have positively agreed to have me back in Chelton by to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock."
"Oh, we will see about that," replied the physician with a sly look atCora. "There is a telephone in Breakwater—"
"Duncan Bennet! If I thought I should be late for the 'clearing-up' to-morrow I would start right now," declared Clip most emphatically.
"Oh, you won't be. We will fix it so the 'clearing-up' will be late for you. I suppose you think everything that ever happened is going to repeat itself to-morrow afternoon, just because one Miss Cecilia Thayer is going—"
"Hush, Duncan! Cora does not know one word about it. She may have guessed, but that is not knowing, is it, Cora?"
"I confess to a keen curiosity," answered Cora, "but as a matter of fact I expect to be very much busy myself to-morrow. Just now I cannot see how it is all going to be managed."
"Well, when the Chelton boys arrive I guess the girls will not be so particular about their time," said Duncan. "I fancy even the captain will have to show somebody the beauties of Breakwater. But hark! Wasn't that Daisy? I just heard a breath. We are only about ten miles from home—Daisy can easily breathe that long when she is excited. Oh, I am just aching to hear what they will say, Cora," and he laughed. "I'll wager Ray will be the aggrieved one. She will likely manage to keep out of the work, don't you think so?"
Cora did not reply in so many words, but she looked acquiescence. Certainly those who knew Ray appreciated her ability to take care of her own personal self at the risk of all other matters. But Cora was thinking of something else—of Wren and the medical report. She knew better than to ask Duncan outright what might have been the result of their inquiry. Nevertheless, she could not refrain from "begging the question."
"Is little Wren happy?" she asked, without apology for the sudden turn in their conversation.
"Well, just now," replied Duncan very seriously, "she can scarcely be expected to realize either happiness or unhappiness, for we had to give her a powerful anesthetic."
"For an operation?" Cora could not refrain from asking. Clip showed no curiosity, and Cora knew at once that she was acquainted with the circumstances.
"Something of that kind," answered Duncan vaguely. "But put your mind at rest—the child has every chance of ultimate recovery. The trouble was the wrong treatment. We use purely physical training for that sort of thing."
"Could the neglect have been intentional?" asked Cora further. She had in mind the "quack" doctor so long sent to Salveys' by the Roland branch of the family.
"Oh, I wouldn't like to venture an opinion on that," replied Duncan, "but ignorance is closely allied to criminal negligence."
Clip set her deep dark eyes in a tense, strained expression. Then they all fell to thinking, and for a time conversation ceased.
"Ten more telegraph poles and we run into Breakwater," announcedDuncan, while Tom eyed his speedometer. "Then for our reception!"
It seemed but two minutes, at most, from that announcement thatDuncan's machine turned into the Bennet estate.
The runaways were forgiven, finally, although between four "enraged" young medical students, and the sextette of motor girls, Cora and Duncan had some difficulty in making it perfectly clear that the trip to Chelton was entirely unavoidable. It was a merry party that gathered in Mrs. Bennet's long drawing-room that evening to make arrangements for the run over Breakwater roads in the morning. The girls at first refused to allow Cora a sight of the decorated cars until they should be in line, but Tillie was so proud of her achievement with the Whirlwind that all finally consented, and directly after tea the cars in the garage and in the big barn were admired and inspected. Certainly the machines did credit to the fair decorators. The Whirlwind was transformed into a moving garden, the sides being first wound with strong twine, and into this were thrust all sorts of flowers in great, loose bunches. Only the softest foliage, in branches, was utilized, as Tillie felt responsible for the luster of the "piano" polish, for which the Whirlwind was remarkable. The top of the car was like a roof garden, the effect being quite simply managed, for Tillie was resourceful. She had stretched across the roof of the car a strong sheet of pasteboard. Into this she placed a great variety of wild flowers, banking the stalks, which stood into holes made in the board, with soft grasses and such ferns as might be depended upon not to "slink" in the sun.
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Cora with unfeigned delight. "But what an awful lot of trouble, Tillie!"
"It is for you," said the German girl sincerely, "and you have gone to an awful lot of trouble for me. Besides," she added, "you will look so queenly in that throne of flowers."
The compliment was rather overwhelming—especially as the strange young men were there, they with Duncan adding a new line of adjectives to the admiration party.
"You may look at our car, Cora," assented Bess, "although you were so indifferent, going away without even offering a suggestion as to what we might do."
"As if I could anticipate Belle's talent," said Cora with a laugh. "I feel I ought to answer to 'which hand' when I open my eyes on her creation."
"Oh-h-h-h!"
The boys all joined in with Cora and Clip in the expressions of delight, for there was the pretty little runabout, the Flyaway, made into a "live pond lily."
"However did you do it?" asked Cora, actually amazed at the charming effect.
"I shouldn't tell," replied Belle, who was looking very pretty—at least one of the strange boys thought so. It was Phil MacVicker who "kept track" of Belle, and it was the same gallant Phil, who, late in the afternoon, helped Belle to finish up her pond lily.
"We may all guess why Belle chose that design," said Daisy, who was waiting for the newcomers to pass judgment on her own runabout. "A pond lily has a yellow head, and Belle's is just about that shade."
It would be pretty to see a yellow head in the white peals of the improvised lily. Cora satisfied her curiosity by finding out that these petals were nothing more than barrel staves covered with crushed white paper.
"You have had an awful lot to do, girls," she said with genuine sincerity. "I am actually sorry I could not have been here to help."
"Of course, mine is not so elegant," remarked Daisy, who led the way to the other carriage house, where her machine was kept, "but I fancy people will look at it."
Duncan "went wild" when he beheld what Daisy had rigged up. A veritable circus wagon—a cage, in which Daisy declared she was going to sit with whip in hand, and Nero, the big St. Bernard dog, at her feet.
"We made it out of clothes poles and laths," said Daisy proudly. "I have not taken a course in manual training for naught."
Then the boys had to fix up their cars. Duncan was tired—the other boys were frisky—so he nicely suggested that they "do as they jolly pleased with his car, so long as they left room for his feet."
Of course the boys wanted something grotesque. Phil suggested that they all carry out the circus idea, and "trail" after Beauty and the Beast. This was finally agreed to, and it was Duncan's car that they turned into the calliope, actually going so far as to hire the local hurdy-gurdy man to ride in it and do the "callioping."
"It looks as if our run home would be more auspicious than the trip we made in," said Cora to one of the very nice young students, who had offered to look over her car and see that it was in good working order. "We had a dreadful time coming out here—but I suppose the girls have told you about it."
Bentley Davis, otherwise called Ben, admitted that the young ladies had spoken of the trip, and he presumed to predict a great time for the auto meet.
So it went on until the boys had to go back to their hotel, and the girls, after discussing all sorts of necessary and unnecessary plans, finally consented to wait for the morrow.
Tired from their enthusiasm, as well as from muscular efforts, the girls found their eyes scarcely "locked," before the bright rays of a late summer sun knocked on the tardy lids and demanded recognition.
Was it really time to get up?
If only the wasted hours of the evening past might be tucked on to the shortened time! Most things might be lengthened that way.
But, one after the other, the girls were at last awake, and so, quicker and quicker, sped the time until horns were sounding from garage and stable and even from the roadway.
"There come the Cheltons!" called Duncan as he saw Jack's car. ThenWalter's with Ed rounded the gravel driveway.
From that moment, until car after car was upon the roads of Breakwater, it was a question which made the most noise, the girls talking or the boys blowing signals on the auto horns. Hazel had come with Jack, as Paul was scarcely able for the excitement, so that, after all, the motor girls were all in the run.
What a parade!
Of course, Cora, being captain, had to lead, and from the floral folds of the Whirlwind floated the club flag in the newly adopted colors, red and white, with the gold letters, M. G. C. (Motor Girls' Club), plainly discernible in the changing sunlight.
Every one in Breakwater had heard that there was to be an amateur motor show, but few expected it to turn out into such a fine procession.
The sound of the "calliope" was truly ludicrous. To this was soon added all sorts of noises that only street urchins know how to develop spontaneously.
Nor were the young people of Breakwater to be left out of the sport, for numbers of them possessing automobiles, fell into line, after the decorated cars, until the entire little summer place was agog with such excitement as the extreme originality of the visiting colonists usually affords.
Street after street was paraded through, auto after auto wheeled along, horns tooting, whistles screeching, boys shouting, girls cheering, until one hour of this strenuous frolic seemed enough to satisfy motor girls and motor boys; and the party went to the Beacon for luncheon precisely at noon, leaving Tom to finish the honors by stripping the cars of their trappings and making them ready for a homeward trip.
Cora, however, was persuaded to leave her machine decorated, as the flowers made a pretty picture, and the return home, after the three-days' trip, seemed more auspicious when thus heralded.
Reluctantly the adieux were made—Mrs. Bennet had been so hospitable, and the boys such good company.
Duncan found an opportunity of making Clip more intimately acquainted with his mother, for she was a woman glad to be the friend of her boy's friends, and willing to take considerable trouble to show the many little social preferences.
Cora insisted on the festivities breaking up on the scheduled time, and so did Clip. Cora wanted to get to the antique shop, and Clip wanted to get back to Chelton. So after a delay, impossible to avoid where there were so many boys and so many girls, each and all wanting something to say, some question to ask, or some message to deliver, the party finally started off on the return trip of the first regular tour of the Motor Girls' Club.
With Jack's and Walter's additional cars the girls were able to ride home without crowding, so that the Whirlwind carried only Cora, Clip and Gertrude—the gallantry of the Chelton young men affording Tillie and Adele a chance for a most jolly trip in the little runabouts, while Hazel rode with the twins.
Cora explained that she had an errand to do on the river road, so that she might go to the antique shop without the others.
"I think it will be best to have a chance to talk with the old man quietly," she told her companions. "I am so anxious to find out whether or not he really had Wren's table, or knows anything about it."
But scarcely had she turned into the narrow street than the surprising sight of Rob Roland's car dashed before her eyes. In it were Rob Roland and Sid Wilcox.
Seeing the festooning of the Whirlwind, the driver of the smaller car slackened up, then, seeing further who the occupants of the floral car were, Rob Roland drew up to speak to Cora.
"He has just come from the antique shop," whispered Clip, "and I am afraid we are too late, Cora."
But Cora spoke cheerily to the young men, exchanging pleasantries about the auto show, and remarking that they should have been in Breakwater to see it.
"Oh, we have had our own show this morning," said Rob triumphantly. "I guess the motor girls are not such expert detectives as they have thought themselves to be."
This seemed to be aimed directly at Clip. She only laughed merrily, however, as the Whirlwind shot out of reach of the young man's voice.
"What do you suppose he meant?" she asked Cora.
"We will soon know," replied the other. "It is about the table, of course."
They pulled up to the narrow sidewalk. Cora was not slow in leaving her car. Clip was with her on the walk directly.
As they pulled off, their gloves they stopped for a moment in front of the dingy window.
Cora drew back.
"Look!" she exclaimed. "There is Wren's promise book."
"For sale here!" gasped Clip.
"I—hope so—" faltered Cora quickening her steps into the shop.
The little bewhiskered man was rubbing his wrinkled hands in apparent satisfaction. He was in no hurry to wait on his customers.
"What is that album I see in the window?" asked Cora. "Some foreign postcard book?"
"Oh, that! No, that is not foreign. It is a sacred relic of some child saint."
"For sale?" asked Cora, her voice a-tremble.
"Oh, no! No! No!" and the man shook his head gravely. "I always keep relics—for curiosities."
"Might I look at it?" pressed the motor girl, while Clip picked up something with pretended interest.
"Oh, yes, of course. But it is only filled with names, and I got it in a deal with another sale. The party who brought it here," went on the curio dealer, "the same who bought the table gave me the book in the bargain, with the understanding that I should not sell it but keep it on exhibition. They were very particular about me not selling it."
Cora instantly guessed what this meant—a trick of Rob Roland. To show her the book! To make sure it was now useless, as the table had been made secure by him, but just to put it in that case to taunt her, when she would come, as of course he knew she would, and discover there was now absolutely no hope of ever recovering Wren's long-lost treasure.
She looked vaguely into the glass case. "So you did get the table?" she said indifferently.
"Yes, that, too," said the man. But he made no attempt to display it.
"Can't I see it? You said you would make me one like it—"
"Oh, yes. I know I did. But my customer is very particular, and I have agreed not to show it."
"Cora's heart sank. She must be shrewd now or lose what she had so long worked for.
"But you made the agreement with me first," she argued. "You promised to let me see the table, and said you would make me one to order, not like it, of course, but in the same line."
The old man shook his head. He had evidently changed his mind.
A new thought came to Cora. "Has your customer paid for the table?" she asked.
"Oh, it will be paid for—it will be paid for," and he seemed to gloat over the words, "when it is delivered."
Then it was not yet paid for—not actually bought. Clip saw instantly what Cora was striving for, but she pretended to be interested in the locked case in which rested the much-looked-for promise book.
"How do you know it will be paid for?" hazarded Cora. "Young folks often change their minds. I suppose you have a good deposit?"
"Well, no. I wanted one, but the gentleman is gone for to cash a check—"
Cora laughed. The old man's face changed.
"If they wanted the table why did they not bring the money?" she said. "I should think it would save you trouble to sell the table directly to me—if it suits me, of course. I am going away from here, and suppose the other customer never comes back?"
Still the old man did not speak. Cora saw her advantage and took out her purse.
"How much is it?" she asked boldly.
"They will pay me fifty dollars for that table," he said dramatically.
"So will I, if it suits me," she declared. "Come, let me see it."
The old man saw the new bills in her hands,
He stepped toward the door of another room, but he put up his hand to warn her not to follow.
"I will bring it," he said in such grave tones that Clip wanted to laugh—surely this was a Shylock.
While he was within the room Cora whispered to Clip, and when the old man came out Clip was gone.
He had between his hands a small, very narrow table, like the old-time card table, with glass knob at either end, and on the long drop leaves were inlaid an anchor and crossed oars.
"That is just the size," declared Cora, while she trembled so she feared the man would detect her agitation. Then she looked it over, and under she was seeking for a hidden drawer.
"Are there drawers in it?" she asked.
"Oh, my, but yes. That is why it is worth so much. The drawers cannot all be found. It is like a safe—"
Cora was sure this was the long-lost table. Oh, if she could only induce the man to let her take it.
The price, she was positive, was far beyond that offered by the other customer, but that did not matter.
"You had better let me have this," she said. "I will take it right along and save express. Then make one for the other party, if he ever comes back."
The shopkeeper shrugged his shoulders—if he only would talk, thoughtCora.
Cora counted out fifty dollars. The man watched her greedily. It was twenty-five dollars more than he had bargained to sell the table for. Why should he lose so much?
"May I have it?" pressed Cora.
"Well, I never before did that but he should have left a deposit," said the man.
Quicker than the girl dreamed she could do it, Cora paid the man, actually grabbed the table herself and ran out of the shop with it and thrust it into the front of the Whirlwind among the flowers, cranked up her car and darted off.
Her face was so white that she frightened Gertrude. "Don't ask any questions, dear," she said to the latter. "I must meet Clip. She has gone for a detective."
Just around the corner came Clip, and with her an officer in plain clothes. Cora swung in to the curb.
"I have it! I have it!" she exclaimed to Clip. "Is this the officer?" she asked. "And have you told him the book was stolen?"
"Oh, don't worry about the details, miss," replied the officer. "We have that thing to do every day. These fellows take anything they can get, and that being the book of a cripple, I will take chances on getting it. You may be asked to explain fully, later."
"Oh, thank you so much!" cried Cora, almost overcome. "To think we may bring both the table and the book home to Wren!"
What followed seemed like a dream to Cora. Of course she knew that it was Rob Roland who had ordered the table and Sid Wilcox who had returned the book. As the Whirlwind passed the little hotel on the road to Chelton Cora actually brushed against Rob Roland's car—and she had the table hidden amid the flowers in the Whirlwind!
In Clip's hands was grasped the promise book—Wren should have both.Poor, afflicted little Wren!
Straight to the private sanitarium they went—these two motor girls.Miss Brown helped carry the table up to Wren's bedside.
At the sight of it Wren uttered a scream—then the shock did what medical skill often fails to do. Wren Salvey sprang out of bed, touched a spring in the table and a drawer jerked open.
"There!" she shrieked, holding up a paper. "The will!" Then she fell back—exhausted.
"The shock has done it," said Miss Brown as Clip helped put the girl on the bed and Cora looked frightened. "It has broken the knot that tied her muscles. She will be cured."
Clip stepped over to a closet, and while Cora was almost fainting from excitement Clip quietly took off her motor coat. Presently she stepped back to Cora—in the full garb of a trained nurse.
"Clip!" exclaimed Cora.
"Yes," replied the girl, "I graduate to-night. Will you be able to come?"
What more should be told? With the failure of Rob Roland to get possession of the table he lost all courage and simply admitted defeat. It was Sid Wilcox who stole the book from little Wren—just to avenge Ida Giles, whose lunch basket had been demolished by a motor girl. An odd revenge, but he thought, in some way, it would annoy the motor girls. Of course Rob Roland paid him something for doing it. But all their strategy was not equal to the ready wit of Cora Kimball and her chums. Nor was this the only time that the motor girls proved their worth in times of danger and necessity. They were active participants in other adventures, as will be related in the third volume of this series, to be called "The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach; Or, In Quest of the Runaways." How they went East in their cars, and how they unexpectedly got on, the trail of two girls who had left home under a cloud, will, I think, make a tale you will wish to peruse.
It was not long after the table and the promise book had been restored to Wren, and following her complete recovery, that the suit against Mr. Robinson was dropped. Roland, Reed & Company admitted that they had arranged to have the papers taken from the mailbag, and the government imposed a heavy fine on them for their daring crime. They had done what they did with the idea of securing information, and not with a desire to keep the papers, but the Federal authorities would accept no excuses. Later Mr. Robinson secured heavy damages from the men, the disfigured thumb of one having served Clip to identify him.
As for Wren and Mrs. Salvey, with the will in their possession, they were enabled to get control of a comfortable income, and Wren could be taken to a health resort to fully recover her strength. Sid Wilcox and Rob Roland were not prosecuted for their mean parts in the transactions, as it was desired to have as little publicity as possible.
"And to think, Clip, dear, that you were deceiving us all the while," remarked Cora several days later, when she and the Robinson twins; and a few other of the chums, were gathered in the Kimball home. "I never would have thought it of you."
"Nor I," added Belle.
"But wasn't it strange how it all came about?" suggested Bess. "It seemed like fate."
"It was fate," asserted Clip. "Fate and—Cora."
"Mostly fate, I'm afraid," declared Cora. "Of course the table being disposed of at auction was a mere accident, likely to happen anywhere. The real power, though, was little Wren. She, somehow, felt that the old will was in it, and by her talk, and through her promise book, the fact came to be known to the enemies of the family. Then Rob Roland, or some of the men who used him as a tool, conceived the idea of searching for the table. They probably had the old mahogany man act for them, and he made inquiries of auctioneers and persons who were in the habit of buying at auctions. Then we came into the game, and—"
"Yes, and then Ida and Sid Wilcox, though I'm glad Ida didn't take any part in these proceedings," observed Belle.
"So am I," said Cora softly. "Well, we managed to get ahead of Rob Roland. A little later and he would have had the table, and would have found the will. Then little Wren and her mother would never have come into their inheritance. Oh, I don't see how people can be so mean!"
"And the way they treated Paul," added Clip. "They ought to be punished for that."
"Well, I guess Paul was more harmed mentally than he was physically," said Bess. "He told me the men used him very gently. It was the papers in the bag they were after."
"I think Clip gave us the greatest surprise of all," went on Cora. "The idea of a girl keeping it secret as long as she did, that she was all ready to graduate as a trained nurse! No wonder she knew how to treat Wren. I feel that she is far above us now."
"Shall I lose my honorary membership in the Motor Girls' Club?" askedClip as she slipped her arm around Cora and pretended to feel her pulse.
"Well, I guess not! The motor girls are proud of you!" cried Bess.
"Of course," added Belle.
Cora said nothing, but the manner in which she put her arm around the waist of Clip was answer enough.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Motor Girls on a Tour, by Margaret Penrose