CHAPTER IV

THE MYSTERIOUS CAR.

The night before the party was to start upon the excursion, the rest of the girls arrived at Mrs. Hadley’s. Their hostess had insisted upon entertaining them all at her house, and had prepared a dinner worthy of the occasion. With the exception of her son John, none of the boys was invited until later in the evening.

As soon as the others—including Daisy Gravers, Florence Evans, Ethel Todd, and Mrs. Remington—put in an appearance, Marjorie led them out to examine the new car. Lily’s, too, was there, all ready for the journey, in the best of shape, both inside and out.

It just seems as if nothing could go wrong, said Mrs. Remington, as the party turned back into the house. The cars are in A Number One condition. Now, how about the drivers?

We three have been driving all week, replied Alice; so we’re quite experienced by now. And you’ll find both cars easy to manage.

How much equipment have you bought? continued Mrs. Remington.

Marjorie opened up the rear of the cars where most of the things had been packed in readiness for the morrow, and displayed their purchases, talking enthusiastically on their merits until the dinner bell summoned them into the dining-room. Then she began on the trip, and mapped it out to the new-comers as she and her committee had planned it.

It certainly sounds wonderful, remarked Florence Evans. But I wonder how nearly we shall follow your schedule.

Why shouldn’t we? asked Marjorie. What do you mean, Flos?

Nothing special—only I have a presentment that things aren’t going so smoothly as you have planned.

Oh, nonsense! laughed Alice, lightly. Don’t be pessimistic. Besides we have twelve extra days, not counting the three we expect to spend at Mae’s, in case we are delayed by storms and flat tires.

I dare say we’ll need them, concluded Florence, determined to have the last word.

The boys too showed the same spirit of doubt. One and all they announced that they did not believe the scouts could make the trip on scheduled time. Perhaps this was because they hated to admit their ability to get along without masculine assistance, and perhaps it was because they did not want the girls to go. It was Jack who finally came forth with a suggestion.

Why not show your good sense, Sis, he began, addressing Marjorie, although he meant his remarks for all the scouts, and give the thing up! Really, it’s wild; you’ll tire yourselves all out, and won’t win your reward in the end—or anything else for that matter. It was lots more fun to have you running a tea-room, and hunting spooks. Why not do that again, and buy your own cars with the proceeds?

But we’d never have the good fortune to find another haunted house, returned Marjorie. And think how dull it would be without the spooks!

Good fortune? repeated Lily. Dull without them! Now, Marj, you know it kept us in a constant torment. No, thanks; I for one prefer the calm of a motor trip.

Wait till you’ve had your motor trip, said Jack, significantly. Then maybe you can talk more about the calm of it. From what I hear, it’s anything but calm.

But think of the reward! Marjorie reminded him.

You mean meeting those cousins of Alice? asked John, jealously.

Mercy no! I mean the motor-cars we’re to get and the fun of seeing California, and the chance to be together as Girl Scouts—when we’re so nearly grown-up.

But we’re not going to act grown-up this summer, protested Alice. Except where strangers are concerned. We’re just going to be the same Girl Scouts of dear old Pansy Troop—

Who don’t care about meeting wealthy young men or— began Dick, but he was stopped by a protest from Marjorie.

Enough of that! she commanded. The time is too short to waste. We must plan our visit to Mae’s. Now tell me which of you boys are expecting to go.

As it was a subject in which the boys and girls alike were interested, for they were all hoping to go, they were willing to discuss it as long as the party lasted. Their conversation, however, was cut short; at ten o’clock Mrs. Hadley served light refreshments and informed the boys that they were expected to leave immediately afterward, to allow the girls to get some rest for their early start in the morning.

It seemed indeed a good omen that the following day was bright and clear, and the scouts, true to their resolution, arose early and made their final preparations. They lingered awhile over breakfast, making a hearty meal of it, so that they would be satisfied at noon with a light luncheon. They kept rehearsing their program for the day, and talking over their schedule as to drivers and stops and mileage. Marjorie reminded Lily to turn her speedometer back to zero, because, as she said, they wanted to be very exact about their trip.

We must never be willing to turn in at night, she added, unless we have covered our one hundred miles.

And yet, put in Lily, you decided that we wouldn’t travel at night! Now how can you make those two rules consistent?

Marjorie smiled good-naturedly at the other girl’s logic, admitting that perhaps she had been a trifle inconsistent.

It’s ten minutes to eight, interrupted Florence; don’t you girls think we had better start?

No, replied Marjorie, thoughtfully. It would never do to start at ten minutes of the hour. Let’s leave on the very stroke of eight.

Then we ought to get our hats on and be all ready—and give Mrs. Hadley her good-bye kisses.

And don’t forget mine! added John, hopefully.

They were off at last, Marjorie at the wheel of the big car, and Lily in the driver’s seat of her own, directing their course through the Park. Here they followed the Wissahickon, past all the spots where Marjorie had looked so eagerly for a location for the tea-room the year before; and as they saw it in all its natural loveliness more than one girl experienced a passing sensation of homesickness at the thought of leaving so much beauty behind.

But by the time they left the Park at the City Line, and climbed the long steep hill over the river, the joy of travelling, the lure of the open road had taken hold of them, and made them anxious to press on. Both machines took the sharp incline on high, and sped on to the succeeding hills; then, when they came to the church at the cross-roads, where they met the Lincoln Highway, both drivers stopped for a minute.

Here is the red, white, and blue mark! cried Marjorie. The mark that we’ll be looking for all the way out to the coast.

Here’s hoping we never miss it! exclaimed Alice, fervently.

Shall I continue to lead? asked Marjorie, turning to Lily.

Yes, yes, go on, urged the other. The large car ought to go first.

That it can see that all is well for the little one! explained Daisy.

Marjorie released her brakes, and again both cars made a start. They were on a beautiful road now shaded by tall trees, and lined with imposing dwellings.

If it’s all like this, the trip will be more than delightful! exclaimed Alice, as she shifted her gaze from one side of the road to the other, in admiration of the beautiful lawns and lovely houses. Why, I’d be satisfied with one of the lodge-keepers’ houses to live in!

Well, I’m afraid it’s not all quite so nice as this, replied Marjorie. You know Pennsylvania is one of the states that is noted for its wonderful scenery.

That reminds me, said Daisy, don’t we pass through the town where Ethel’s college is located?

Bryn Mawr? I should say we do. You know the town is called by the same name. It’s right after we pass through Haverford—

Where the men’s college is? inquired Alice.

Yes; the Quaker college. We’ll keep a watch out for it.

The girls were reducing their speed now in compliance with the fifteen miles an hour regulation enforced in the towns, and they found ample opportunity to look about them. It was no wonder, therefore, as they were just about to enter the most congested part of Haverford, that they noticed a small, bright red racing car flash by them at a prohibitive pace.

I wonder what their hurry is, remarked Marjorie. I noticed that car behind us quite a while ago.

Maybe they are college students, said Alice, out for a joy ride. They looked young.

My gracious, Alice, did you even notice their ages, teased Florence. Then, turning to their chaperone, Mrs. Remington, I see you will have to keep your eye on this young lady during the trip.

Now, Flos, that isn’t fair! protested the accused. You know there was something unusual—likely to attract attention—about that car. You girls probably all noticed it, and most of you would look at the young men too, if you got the chance!

Guilty! admitted Marjorie, in self-accusation.

Well, it serves them right if they get arrested, said Alice. I only hope they don’t have any accidents.

She spoke lightly, and yet she could not dismiss the young men from her mind. They really were very striking looking—almost distinguished—and they had looked at the girls as they passed them. Indeed it seemed to Alice that they had given her in particular an especial amount of attention.

By the time they had been riding for an hour or two longer, and had seen hundreds of machines, Alice had almost forgotten them, and probably would never have thought of them again, except for an incident which occurred while the girls were eating lunch. They drew up in front of a little tea-room, and were just preparing to get out when Alice caught a glimpse of a bright red car, coming from the opposite direction. She grasped Marjorie’s arm.

Look, Marj! That must be our friends! she exclaimed.

What friends? demanded Marjorie, who had totally forgotten the incident of the morning.

Why, the young men you people teased me about. Don’t you remember?

The car was in full sight now, and was slowing down in front of the tea-room. It was evident that Alice’s surmise was correct.

They’re coming in here to lunch, too! whispered Marjorie. I believe you did make a hit, Alice!

But Alice shook her head.

No, Marj; I have another idea.

What?

I’ll tell you after lunch. Only—watch them!

You sound mysterious! What—?

Sh! I’ll explain later.

The scouts were no sooner seated at two tables by the window than the young men entered with an air of unconcern. Without apparently noticing the girls, they selected a place on the opposite side of the room. While the girls gave their order, and later when they were eating their luncheon, they ventured now and then a casual glance at their neighbors; but never once did they catch the young men looking at them.

I wonder which one of you is the attraction, muttered Lily, looking around the party.

Notice she says you and not us! remarked Florence. Of course you consider yourself out of it, Lil! But remember, they don’t know you’ve already found the one and only man.

Nonsense, Flos! You talk as if I were engaged—and I’m far from it. But I don’t think I am the attraction.

Well, I hope not. And I hope it isn’t Marj, either, for they’d be sadly disappointed after they found out about John Hadley.

Girls, put in Marjorie. You better be careful about what you say. Let’s save our discussion till we get out of here.

In accordance with her wish, Alice let the matter drop until they were on their way again. Then she expounded her theory.

Girls, she began very solemnly, in a tone loud enough for the other occupants of the large car to hear, I think I know who our mysterious friends are—and what they are doing!

Who? What? demanded Marjorie and Florence at once.

Are they bootleggers? asked Daisy, with an involuntary shudder at the idea of meeting with trouble again.

No, replied Alice. Hasn’t anybody guessed it?

No! No! said Marjorie. Do tell us, Alice!

I’ll wager Ethel has guessed, said Alice, enjoying their curiosity. She has such a good detective mind.

But Marj has too, and she doesn’t know what you’re talking about, said Florence. So you might as well take us out of our agony!

Alice made her statement slowly: I think those two young men are my cousins, sent by my Aunt Emeline to spy on us, and see whether we fulfill all our conditions!

The girls simply gasped at the novelty of the idea; involuntarily Marjorie slowed the car so that they could talk more easily.

But why would they make themselves so obvious? she asked. Spies usually work in secret—

No, Aunt Emeline wouldn’t stoop to that sort of thing, replied Alice.

Do you know your cousins’ names, Alice? asked Daisy.

Yes: Milton and Vaughn Crowell.

Not the same last name as your aunt?

No, Aunt Emeline is a Miss Vaughn. The younger nephew took his mother’s maiden name for a first name.

Have you ever seen their pictures? asked Florence.

No, never.

Then how shall we know whether you are right?

We can’t know—till we get to California.

Oh, I simply can’t wait all that time, said Marjorie, impatiently. Let’s make a vow that if they pass us once more, we’ll lay a trap for them to discover their identity.

All right. But how?

We’ll think of something later. Somebody will probably get an inspiration.

But do wait, girls, and be sure, urged Mrs. Remington. After all, the chances are small—

Only that my aunt knows our exact route—and—well—she seems to be that sort of person.

Late that afternoon when their speedometers registered the required hundred miles, and the girls had stopped at an attractive spot for their camp, the bright red car with its two young occupants passed by them twice. But on neither occasion did the young men make any attempt to establish an acquaintanceship.