The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach; Or, In Quest of the Runaways

by Margaret Penrose

  CHAPTER XIII

  GOING AND COMING

  The weather was uncertain--it might rain, but there were cobwebs on thegrass, which meant "clear." But the sun did not come out, and it waspast noon.

  These unfavorable conditions were unusual on a day when the motorgirls were to make a run, but Bess, Belle and Cora were almost toobusy with their preparations to pay much heed to the possibility ofrain while en route.

  The start was to be made at two o'clock, and the chimes on the diningroom mantel of the Kimball home had just warned Cora that half thehour between one and two had gone by.

  "We take no note of time but from its flight," quoted Cora to herself,hurrying through the room to crowd a last few things into her motortrunk. "I wonder where Jack is?"

  At that very moment Jack's inevitable whistle was heard, and the next,the boy was in the room, looking as deliciously lazy as ever, in thatway so peculiar to boys who have a great deal to do at the time; thescience of which studied indifference is absolutely impossible for agirl to fathom.

  "Why this fluttering fluster, sis?" he asked, crumbling deeper in theleather-cushioned chair. "You will positively get overheated andruin--your--complex--ion!" This last was drawled out with the mostaggravating yawn.

  "Why, Jack, I have to be in my car at ten minutes to two, and do yousee the time?"

  "No, but I hear it. I wonder who on earth put a clock to ticking. Badenough to hear the hours knock, but this constant tick----"

  "Jack, whatever you have to say to me please say it," interrupted thesister. "I know perfectly well that this preamble is portentous."

  "No, it's merely pretentious," answered Jack, drawing from his pocketthe card that Andy had turned over to him. "Do you happen to rememberwhere you dropped this?"

  It was a simple guess, but Jack tried it.

  "Dropped that?" repeated Cora, taking the card from his hand. "Why, Ideclare! I have looked everywhere for that. I wanted it last night. Ihad actually forgotten the name of the cottage, and I wanted to giveit to you for your note book. Where did you find it?"

  "Didn't find it, it found me. Andy gave it to me."

  "Andy!" and Cora's eyes showed her surprise.

  "Yes. He said the old lady, Ramsy, found it in your strawberry girls'room."

  "Whatever are you talking about, Jack?" demanded Cora with someimpatience. "Don't you know I have to hurry, and you are teasing methis way?"

  Jack went over to his sister, and put his bare brown arm around herneck. She looked up from the folding of her trinkets, and smiled intohis face.

  "Now, see here, sis," he said, "I am telling you the exact truth, andwhen I say exact, I mean exact. Andy told me he caught this card on afly as it flew out the Ramsy window, when they were letting fly theiropinions about the motor girls. Andy caught the card on the firstbounce, stuck it in his pocket--no, let me see! He carried it againsthis heart, between his second and third ribs----"

  "Oh, I know!" interrupted Cora. "I dropped that in the shed when Iopened my purse to pay for the berries. I thought I felt somethingslip from my hand."

  "There," and Jack made a comical effort to pat himself on the back."Jack, my boy, you are a wonder! If you don't know what you want justguess it."

  "And they said I gave that card to the girls? To give them a place torun away to, I suppose."

  "That was it," replied her brother. "You see, old lady Ramsy has anidea you want to abduct those girls. But it was a lucky breeze thatblew the card to Andy. Otherwise you might expect an early call atClover Cottage from the honorable Mrs. R of the Strawberry Patch."

  "As if there was anything strange about me dropping my own personalcard," mused Cora aloud. "And what difference did it make who mightpick it up?"

  The clock gave the alarm that the hour was about to strike. Corajumped up and slipped into her coat and bonnet.

  "It seemed foolish for the Robinsons to hire a car to take theirfriends down when I am riding alone," she said, "but the girls made mepromise not to offer my car, but to carry the bags in the tonneau--Bessand Belle expect to get as far as possible from the--chaperoneconveyance. Well, Jack dear, I am rather a naughty sister to run away,and leave you thus, when mother specially intrusted you to mysafekeeping. But you have compelled me to go, haven't you?"

  "Forced you to," admitted Jack, picking up the bag and following herto the door.

  The maids were in the hall waiting to assist Cora, and to bid hergood-bye. A word of kind instruction to each, and Cora jumped into thecar. Jack, having cranked up, took his place beside her.

  "I will go as far as the trolley line," he said. "I want to see ifAndy takes that two o'clock car when it turns back."

  There were many little things to be spoken of between brother andsister, and, as they drove along, Cora referred more than once to thevisit of the detectives. Jack assured her that he would attend to themand then, reaching the turnpike, where the trolley line ended, he badeher good-bye, jumped out, and, for a moment, watched the pretty car,and its prettier driver, fly down the avenue.

  The next moment a trolley car stopped at the switch. From the rearplatform two elderly ladies alighted rather awkwardly. They werequeerly dressed, and the larger, she in the gingham gown, with thebrown shirred bonnet, almost yanked the other from the steps to theground, in attempting to assist her.

  "The Ramsy and the Schenk!" Jack told himself. "Cora did not get awayany too soon!"

  The women turned to the other side of the road. As they did, Jack felta tug at his coat.

  "That's them," said Andy, almost in a whisper, "and there come the twodetectives! If you like you can stay away from your house, and I willlay around, and find out what happens!"

  "Why, they will want to see me!" declared Jack, in some surprise atthe suggestion.

  "Suppose they do? Let them want," answered the urchin. "If I was youI'd just lay low. My mother always says 'the least said is the easiestmended,' and she knows."

  The advice, after all, was not unwise, Jack thought. He had otherthings to attend to besides talking to a pair of foolish women, andanswering the questions of a pair of well-paid detectives.

  "Maybe you're right, Andy," he said. "I believe I am busy thisafternoon. But take care that you don't get in the scrap. They will bebound to have revenge on some one."

  Andy sprang back of the car to avoid being observed by the women, asthey turned to see which way they should go. Jack was not afraid ofbeing noticed by the women, and he was a stranger to the detectives.The latter directed the women to walk over to the avenue, and thenthey followed at a "respectful distance."

  Andy slunk out from his corner, darted off in the opposite direction,and Jack knew he would be at the Kimball homestead considerable inadvance of the others.

  "The Imp of the Strawberry Patch," thought Jack, in his usual way ofmaking a story from a title. "He's a queer little chap, but not soslow, after all. How very much more reasonable it is for me to turn inand talk with Ed and Walter, than to go back home and jab answers atthat quartette."

  Then the thought of Cora's word (that she would see the detectives)crossed his mind. For a moment he almost changed his resolution. Thenhe decided:

  "All's fair in love and war, and if this isn't war, it's a first-classsham battle."

  Andy was out of sight. The last "rays" of the two country skirts couldjust be made out, as their owners trudged along the avenue, and JackKimball took up his tune, where he had left it off, thrust his handsinto his pockets, and sauntered off in the direction of the towngarage.

  As he anticipated, both Ed and Walter were there, putting Walter'smachine in ship-shape for the run after the girls.

  "Are you sure, Jack Kimball," demanded Ed, "that the young ladies willbe in no way put out by our rudeness? I have a particular desire toplease the ladies."

  "Oh, you'll please them, all right," replied Jack, taking a seat onthe step of a handsome car, just in front of the one his friends werebusy at. "There is nothing on earth pleases a girl so much as to runafter her, when
she distinctly says you shall not go."

  "Hear ye! The expert!" called out Walter, as he rubbed the chamoisover the brass lamps at the front of his runabout. "Jack happens toknow all about the game. Don't you remember the success of ourhay-mobile run last year, when we went after the girls on their tour?Well, take it from me, the event this year will be equallydisastrous--only more so," and Walter gave a last flourish to thelamp-polisher, then did a few fancy steps, in front of the car, to seethat the reflection was correct.

  "What time do we start?" asked Ed.

  "Soon as we are ready," replied Jack. "The girls have already gone on,and I promised Mr. Robinson that we would keep just near enough to bewithin call, should they need us, but far enough away to be out ofdanger of their--Walter, what do you call it when a girl declares shecan't bear a thing, and she just loves it?"

  "Oh, that's--that's good taste," replied Walter, running his handsthrough his hair with the doubtful purpose of removing from them someof their lately acquired gasoline and polishing paste.

  "Then, according to Walt, we must keep at a respectful distance fromtheir good taste," finished Jack.

  "You are sure--the ghost works all right?" asked Walter. "There isnothing more disgusting than a ghost that refuses to work."

  "Oh, my ghost is a regular union man--eight hours and all that,"replied Ed. "I've tried it on the chickens, and they almost turnedinto pot-pie from actual fright."

  "And what time are we counting on getting to a putting-up place?"Walter asked further. "If we leave here about three, will we getanywhere in time to--have breakfast, for instance?"

  "Well, my machine is in fine shape," declared Jack, "and I just counton the _Get There_ beating your little _Comet_ if yours is a newermachine. With this calculation we should get to the Wayside by eighto'clock. The motor girls are going to put up there for the night, andwe may be able to put _down_ there, if it appears out of good stylefor us to put _up_ there."

  "Why didn't they go right on--start in time to reach the beachto-night?" inquired Ed.

  "Oh, just a whim. Girls want all that's coming to them, and a night ata Wayside they count among their required experiences, don't you know.And the old folks being along made it particularly all right,"declared Jack.

  "But they'll beat us by an hour now," almost sighed Walter, who wasbecoming famous among his chums for his keen interest in the girls andtheir doings.

  "Not much," answered Jack. "They are going the long way 'round. Do yousuppose they would go over the new road? Why, the dust would blindCora if she made a single mile of that grind and grit."

  "Well, after my beauty bath, I'll be about ready," observed Walter."Ed, don't put too much witch-hazel on your locks. Makes me think ofthe day after fourth of July, when I went to grandmama's."

  "Not half as bad as your new gloves. They give me a regular spell ofthe pig skin fever. I'll bet they're made out of junk, and you gotstuck. Three dollars for a pair of gloves to save your lily-whitehands--your lily-white hands!" and he ended in the strain of thefamiliar college song.

  "Well, I'll be going," said Jack. "See to it that neither of youfellows do so much primping that we miss our--guess," and with that thethree young men parted, each going his own way to make ready for therun after the motor girls.