CHAPTER V
SUB ROSA
The next morning, Peter Dillon was lounging in Mrs. Wilson's library,chatting with her on apparently easy terms.
"I think it is a special dispensation of Providence that sent the'Automobile Girls' to Washington to visit Harriet Hamlin just at thisparticular time, Mrs. Wilson," declared Peter Dillon.
Mrs. Wilson walked back and forth across her drawing room floor severaltimes before she answered. She looked older in the early morning light.But her restlessness did not disturb Peter, who was reclining gracefullyin a chair, smoking a cigarette.
"I am not sure you have reason to bless Providence, Peter Dillon," Mrs.Wilson protested. "What a man you are! You simply cannot judge all girlsby the same standard. Some day you are going to meet a girl who iscleverer than you are. And then, where will you be?"
"Oh, I'll go slowly," Peter argued. "I know I am taking chances in makingfriends with the clever one. But she has more nerve and courage than theothers. I am sure it will be much better to leave Harriet out of thewhole business, if possible."
"All right, Peter," Mrs. Wilson agreed. "Manage your own affairs, sincethis happens to be your own special joke. But you had much better haveleft the whole matter to me."
"And spoil my good time with five charming girls?" Peter protested,smiling. "No, Mrs. Wilson; that is too much to ask of me. If I can'tcarry the thing off successfully, you will come to the rescue and helpme. You've promised that. We have had our little jokes together before.But this strikes me as being about the best of the whole lot. We willhave everybody in Washington laughing up his sleeve pretty soon. Therewill be a few people who won't laugh, but so long as we keep quiet weneed not worry about them. Has Elmer gone to work? I know I have madeyou a dreadfully early visit. It is very charming of you to be up intime to see me."
"Don't flatter me, Peter; it is not worth while," Mrs. Wilson saidangrily. Then she smiled. "Never mind, Peter; you can no more helpflattering than you can help breathing, whether your reason is a good ora bad one. I suppose it is because you are an Irishman. By the way, Elmeradmires one of these charming 'Automobile Girls.' He has talked of noone else except Mollie Thurston since Harriet's tea. Be careful what yousay or do before him."
"I shall be careful," Peter returned easily. "My attentions are directedtoward the other sister. How have you managed to keep that big boy ofyours so much in the dark about--oh, a number of things?" finished Peter.
"It is because Elmer has perfect faith in me, Peter," Mrs. Wilsonanswered, passing her hand over her eyes to hide their expression.
"As all other men have had before him, my lady," Peter avowed. "Is ittrue that Mr. William Hamlin is now a worshiper at your shrine?"
"Absurd!" protested Mrs. Wilson. "Here comes Elmer."
"Why, Peter Dillon, this is a surprise!" exclaimed the young lieutenant,walking into the room in search of his mother. "I never knew Mother toget up so early before. I have just been inquiring of your maid, Mother,to know what had become of you. Harriet Hamlin wants you to chaperon uson an automobile ride out to Mt. Vernon and along the Potomac River.Charlie Meyers is giving the party, and Harriet thinks her father won'tobject if you will go along to look after us. That Charlie Meyers is anawful bounder! But Harriet wants to show her little Yankee visitors thesights. Do come along with us, Mother. For I have a fancy I should liketo stroll through the old Washington garden with 'sweet sixteen.'"
"I will chaperon you with pleasure, Elmer," Mrs. Wilson agreed. "But whatabout you, Peter? Are you not invited?"
Peter looked chagrined.
"No; I am not invited, and I call it unkind of Harriet. She knows I amdreadfully impressed with the 'Automobile Girls.'"
Mrs. Wilson and Elmer both laughed provokingly. "That is just what's thetrouble with you, Peter. Harriet is accustomed to your devotion to her.Now that you have turned your thoughts in another direction, she may lookupon you as a faithless swain," Mrs. Wilson teased.
"Don't undertake more than you can manage, Peter," teased Elmer Wilson.
"That is good advice for Peter. Remember, Peter, I have warned you. Someday you will run across a girl who is cleverer than you are. Then lookout, young man," Mrs. Wilson repeated.
But Peter only laughed cheerfully. "What girl isn't cleverer than a man?"he protested. "_Au revoir_. I shall do my best to persuade Harriet tolet me go along with her party this afternoon. I suppose we shall bestarting soon after luncheon, as it is Saturday."
"Mother, can you let me have some money?" Elmer asked, as soon as Peterwas out of hearing. "I am ashamed to ask you for it. But going out insociety does cost a fellow an awful lot."
Mrs. Wilson shook her head. "I am sorry, Boy; I can't let you haveanything just now. I am short of money myself at present. But I expect tohave some money coming in, say in about two weeks, or even ten days. ThenI can let you have what you like."
* * * * *
"How shall we divide our party for the motor ride, Ruth?" asked HarrietHamlin about two o'clock on the afternoon of the same day.
Ruth's red car was standing in front of Mr. Hamlin's door with anotherlarger one belonging to Harriet's friend, Charlie Meyers, waitingbehind it.
The automobile party stood out on the side walk and Peter Dillon hadsomehow managed to be one of them.
"Suppose, Barbara, Grace and Hugh Post go along with me, Harriet?" Ruthproposed. "Mr. Meyers' car is larger than mine. He can take the rest ofthe party."
"What a division!" protested Peter Dillon, as he climbed into Ruth'sautomobile and took his seat next Bab. "Do you suppose, for one instant,that we are going to see Hugh Post drive off, the only man among threegirls? Not if I can help it!"
The two automobiles traveled swiftly through Washington allowing the four"Automobile Girls" only tantalizing glimpses of the executive buildingswhich they passed on the way.
In about an hour the cars covered the sixteen miles that lay between theCapital City and the home of its first President.
Such a deep and abiding tranquillity pervaded the atmosphere of Mt.Vernon that the noisy chatter of the young people was, for an instant,hushed into silence, as they drove through the great iron gates at theentrance to Mt. Vernon, and on up the elm-shaded lawn to the house.
Although it was December, the fall had been unusually warm and the treeswere not yet bare of their autumn foliage; the grass still looked smoothand green under foot.
The "Automobile Girls" held their breath as their eyes rested on the mostfamous historic home in America.
"Oh, Ruth!" exclaimed Bab. But when she saw Peter's eyes smiling at herenthusiasm she stopped and would not say another word.
Of course, Mt. Vernon was an old story to Mrs. Wilson, to Harriet, andindeed to the entire party, except the four girls. But they wished to seeevery detail of the Washington house. They went into the wide hall andthere beheld the key to the Bastile presented by Lafayette to GeneralWashington. They examined the music room, with its queer, old-fashionedmusical instruments; went up to Martha Washington's bedroom and evenlooked upon the white-canopied bed where George Washington died. Indeed,they wandered from garret to cellar in the old house. But it was abeautiful afternoon and the outdoors called them at last.
And, after all, it is the outdoors at Mt. Vernon that is most beautiful.The house is a simple country home with a wide, old-fashioned portico andgallery built of frame and painted to look like stone.
But there is no palace on the Rhine, no castle in Spain, that has a morebeautiful natural situation than Mt. Vernon. It stands on a piece ofgently swelling land that slopes gradually down to the Potomac, andcommands a view of many miles of the broad and noble river.
Bab and Ruth managed to get away from the rest of their party and to slipout on the wide colonnaded veranda.
"How peaceful and beautiful it is out here," Ruth exclaimed, with herarm around her friend's waist. "It seems to me that, if I lived inWashington, I would just run out here whenever anything uncomfortablehappened to
me. I am sure, if I spent the day at Mt. Vernon, I should notfeel trouble any more."
Barbara stood silent. A vague premonition of some possible troubleovertook her.
"Ruth," Bab asked suddenly, "do you like Harriet's friend, Peter Dillon?Every now and then he talks to me in the most mysterious fashion. I don'tunderstand what he means."
Ruth looked unusually grave. Then she answered Bab in a very curioustone. "I know you have lots of common sense, Bab, dear," Ruth began. "Butpromise me you won't put any special faith in Peter Dillon. He is not onebit like Hugh, or Ralph Ewing, or the boys we met at the Major's houseparty. When I meet any one who is such a favorite with everyone I alwayswonder whether he has any real feelings or whether he is trying toaccomplish some end. I suppose Peter Dillon can't help striving to beagreeable to everyone."
Bab laughed a little. "Why, Ruth," she protested, "that idea does notsound a bit like you. You are sweet to everyone yourself, dear, andeveryone loves you. But I do know what you mean about Peter Dillon. I--"
"Hello," cried Mollie's sweet voice. She waved a long blue scarftoward Ruth and Bab. Mollie and Elmer Wilson were standing on thelawn, examining the motto on the sun dial. It read, "I record none butsunny hours."
"Let me write down that motto for you, Miss Thurston," Elmer Wilsonsuggested. "I hope you may follow the old sun dial's example and recordnone but sunny hours yourself."
"Ruth!" called Hugh, coming around from the other side of the porch withPeter Dillon. "Well, here you are, at last! It is not fair for you twogirls to run off together like this. Harriet has disappeared, and Mrs.Wilson is hiding somewhere. Do you remember, Ruth, you promised to gowith me to see the old Washington deer park. It has just been restockedwith deer. Won't you come, too, Bab?"
Barbara shook her head as Hugh and Ruth walked off together. Bab feltsure that Hugh would like to have a chance to talk with Ruth alone,for they had never ceased to be intimate friends since the early daysat Newport.
Peter Dillon stood looking out at the river, whistling softly, "KathleenMavourneen." It was the song Barbara had first heard him whistle in thedrawing-room of Mr. Hamlin's house. The young man said nothing, for a fewmoments, even when he and Bab were alone. But when Bab came over towardhim, Peter smiled. He had his hat off and he had run his hands throughhis dark auburn hair.
"I say, Miss Thurston, why can't you make up your mind to like me?" hequestioned. "Surely you don't suspect me of dark designs, do you? YouAmerican people are so strange. Just because I am half a Russian youthink I have some sinister purpose in my mind. I am not an anarchist,and I don't want to go about trampling on the poor. I wish you couldmeet the Russian ambassador. He is about the most splendid-looking manyou ever saw. I know him, well, you see, because my mother was a distantcousin of his."
Barbara laughed good-humoredly. "You seem to be a kind of connecting linkbetween three or four nations--Russia, America, China. What are your realduties at your legation?"
Barbara looked at her companion with a real question in her brown eyes--aquestion she truly desired to have answered. She was interested to knowwhat duties an attache performed for his embassy. Peter, in spite of hisfrivolities, claimed to be a hard worker.
"You have not seen the loveliest part of Mt. Vernon yet, Miss Thurston,"Peter Dillon interposed just at this instant. "I want to show you the oldgarden, and we must hurry before the gates are closed. Yes; I know I didnot answer your question. An attache just makes himself generally usefulto his chief. But if you really want to know what my ambition is, and howI work to achieve it, why some day I will tell you." Peter looked at Babso seriously that she answered quickly:
"Yes, I should dearly love to see the garden."
Bab and Peter Dillon wandered together through the paths formed by thebox hedges planted in Martha Washington's garden more than a century ago.
Neither seemed to feel like talking. The young man had seen the gardeneras they entered the enclosure, and had persuaded him to allow them to gothrough the lovely spot alone.
Bab's vivid imagination brought to life the old colonial ladies who hadonce wandered in this famous garden. She saw their white wigs, theirpowder and patches and full skirts. So Bab forgot all about hercompanion.
Suddenly she heard Peter give a slight exclamation. They had both come tothe end of the garden walk. There before them stood a great rose tree.Blooming in the unusually warm sunshine were two rose-buds, gently tippedwith frost.
"Ah, Miss Thurston, how glad I am we found the garden first!" Petercried. "This is the famous Mary Washington rose, which Washingtonplanted here in his garden, and named in honor of his mother. Wait hereuntil I find the gardener. I am going to make him let us have these twotiny rose-buds."
"How nice Peter Dillon really is," Bab thought. "Ruth was mistaken inwarning me against him. Of course, he does not show on the surface whathe actually feels. But perhaps I shall find out he is a finer fellow thanwe think he is. Mr. Hamlin says Harriet is wrong in believing Peter isnever in earnest about anything."
"It's all right, Miss Thurston," called Peter, returning in a few minuteswith his eyes shining. "The gardener says we may have the roses." Theyoung fellow dropped down on his knees before the rose bush without a bitof affectation or self-consciousness. He skilfully cut the two half fadedrose-buds from the stalk and handed one to Barbara.
"Keep this, Miss Thurston," he said earnestly. "And if ever you shouldwish me to do you a favor, just send the flower to me and I shall performwhatever task you set me to do to the best of my skill." Peter looked athis own rose. "May I keep my rose-bud for the same purpose?" he beggedquietly. "Perhaps I shall send my flower to you some day and ask you todo me a service. Will you do it for me?"
"Yes, Mr. Dillon, I will do you any favor that I can," Bab returnedsteadily. "But I don't make rash promises in the dark. And I have verylittle opportunity to do people favors. You make me think of thenewspaper girl, Marjorie Moore. She tried to force me into a promisewithout letting me know what she wanted, the first day I saw her. Doeseveryone try to get some one to do something for him in Washington?"
At the mention of Marjorie Moore's name the change in Peter Dillon's facewas so startling that Barbara was startled. Just now he did not look inthe least like an Irishman. His lips tightened into a fine, cruel line,his eyes grew almost black and had a queer, Chinese slant to them. Itsuddenly dawned on Barbara, that Russians have Asiatic blood in theirveins and are often more like Oriental people than they are like those ofthe western world.
But Peter only said carelessly, after he had regained control of hisface: "Miss Moore doesn't like me; and frankly, I don't like her. Shetold you she did society work for her newspaper. She does a great dealmore. She is constantly watching at the legations to see if she can spyon any of their secret information. It is not good form to warn one girlagainst another. But if I were you, Miss Thurston, I would take with agrain of salt any information that Miss Moore might give you."
Barbara answered quietly: "Oh, I don't suppose Miss Moore will tell meany of her secrets. She does not come to Mr. Hamlin's except on business.Harriet does not like her."
"Good for Harriet!" Peter muttered to himself. "It may be Harriet,after all!"
"Barbara Thurston, you and Peter come along this minute," Harriet orderedunexpectedly. "Don't you know we shall be locked up in Mt. Vernon if westay here much longer. Ruth's automobile is already filled and she iswaiting to start. You and Peter are to get into Mr. Meyers' car with me.We have another hour before sunset. We are going to motor along the riverand have our supper at an inn a few miles from here."
As Peter Dillon ran ahead to join Harriet Hamlin, a small piece of paperfell out of his pocket. Barbara picked it up and slipped it inside hercoat, intending to hand it back to Mr. Dillon as soon as she had anopportunity. But there were other things that seemed of more importanceto absorb her attention for the rest of the evening. And Barbara was notto remember the paper until some time later.
Automobile Girls at Washington; Or, Checkmating the Plots of Foreign Spies Page 5
