The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach: or, In Quest of the Runaways

CHAPTER XII – THE “UNPLANNED” PLANS

Cora was always a pretty girl, but in her corn-colored, empire gown, that morning at the breakfast table, even her own brother was forced to express openly his admiration for her.

“Whew, Cora!” he exclaimed, “but you do look like a – tea-rose in that wrapper.”

“Jack, dear, this is not a wrapper, but the very best design in empire,” and she smoothed out the fullness that lay about her.

“Well, it’s all right, anyway,” declared Jack. “Makes me think of rose leaves, the way it clings about you.”

“What a pretty speech, brother. Now, if that had only been saved up for Bess, or Belle or Hazel! By the way, we haven’t seen Hazel this summer. I suppose she is studying as hard as ever. What a pity a bright girl like Hazel is not bright enough to save her health by taking the regulation vacation.”

“Well, with Paul away I suppose Hazel thinks there is nothing left to do but study. I never saw brother and sister more attached,” remarked Jack, taking his fruit from the dainty leaves in which, when Cora “kept house,” she always insisted that fruit be served.

Paul and Hazel Hastings were indeed devoted brother and sister. Paul was also a devotee of the motor, and more than the amateur chauffeur, yet not quite the professional. He had an interesting part to play in the story “The Motor Girls On a Tour.” But Cora had just remarked, Hazel had not been with them during the summer in which this story took place, and, as Jack further explained, this was due to the fact that Paul Hastings, after a severe illness, had taken a position to operate a car abroad, Mr. Robinson having arranged the “business end,” in recognition of Paul’s heroic work for Mr. Robinson in a mysterious robbery.

“But Belle had a letter from Hazel,” said Jack, after some thought, the trick of which was not lost on Cora. “Yes, she said Hazel might go away with them. And now, sis, where are they going, anyway? Come, haven’t I waited long enough for that secret?”

“It really isn’t any secret, Jack, but the girls have a baby way of wanting to keep things to themselves until all the preparations are made. I find it convenient to – keep my affairs to myself, so you see, dear, I have a selfish motive in humoring the others.”

Cora’s cheeks lighted under the cascade of shadows that fell from her splendid black hair. Jack saw, too, that his “little sister” was growing up, and even in her summer plans there were things other than flounces and frills to be considered.

The lighter vein of their conversation had been taken up after Cora had told her brother all that she felt it was prudent to tell about Andy’s early morning call. And now —

“Well, I suppose you are determined to see the detective fellows,” said Jack, moving Cora’s chair out so that she might more easily leave the table.

“What else can I do?” she asked, and answered at once, with her decisive tone of voice.

“I think with Andy – you ought to ‘git away,’” and Jack smiled in imitating the earnest youngster.

“And make matters look as if I were more deeply involved than I really am? Now, Jack, dear, that is not like you.”

“No matter what you make matters look like, so long as you don’t make them look like themselves,” replied the boy. “That’s my brand of logic in a case like this. Don’t you see, sis, you may throw them off the track, and by getting a chance to talk with you, they are bound to find out something, or lose their badges.”

Cora’s face was bent in the roses that stood on the serving table. “But what could I do?” she asked, this time with less decision.

“Anything. Just take a run to – the beach – or anywhere. Leave me to see the officers.”

The rapid tooting of horn of the Flyaway interrupted them.

“My!” exclaimed Cora, “more early morning callers? There’s Bess!”

And, true enough, there was Bess, guiding her car up the drive, her veil flying in the breeze, and her cheeks like the very roses that outlined the path.

“Why the where-for-ness?” demanded Jack. “I am startled – collapsed – I might say, by the suddenness of this – pleasure – ”

“Now, Jack,” and Bess had alighted from her car, “you are not to make jokes, we haven’t time. I am almost dead from hurrying. Mother decided, about midnight last night, that we should go to – ”

Then she stopped. How silly it would be to blurt out in one mouthful all the story of their secret planning!

“Oh, go ahead,” said Jack with a light laugh. “I am deaf and dumb, also blind and halt. I have no idea where you are going. A trip over the Rockies – ”

“Come in, Bess dear,” said Cora, “and leave the boy to himself. You are certainly out of breath, and – ”

Cora drew the arm of her friend within her own, and with all sorts of glances at Jack, who was actually seated in the Flyaway to make sure that the girls would not get away without his knowledge, Bess and Cora passed into the house.

“We are going to-day,” went on Bess. “Mother wants our Western friends to have an outing at the beach – they have never been to salt water – and, as they must start back in a few days, we have to go to-day. Can you come?”

“How could I – go, this very day?”

“Why, we won’t start until afternoon. And you have everything ready,” urged Bess. “It will be fun. We’ll stop over night at a hotel and reach the shore next day.”

It seemed to Cora that all the powers were conspiring to get her out of Chelton that day, and it also seemed as if it might be rash to oppose such a force. True, she did have everything ready, and her household matters were always in such shape she could leave the servants on an hour’s warning. Bess saw that Cora was uncertain, and she hurried to take advantage of the possible favorable opportunity.

“Oh, Cora, do come! What a perfectly stupid time we would have on that long run with just mama and the others. We wanted to go in the Flyaway and let them go by train, but, of course, mama would not hear to that. So now papa has hired a big machine and a chauffeur from the garage and Belle and I will go in our ‘Bird,’ while the others travel near us in the hired car. Don’t you see, if you go along with the Whirlwind what a splendid time we shall have?”

“Let’s tell Jack – or ask him,” said Cora finally. “He knows we are getting ready for some trip, and I guess we can trust him not to tell the other boys.”

“Don’t you want the other boys to know?” asked Bess, a tone of disappointment in her voice.

“Do you?” asked Cora, mischievously.

“Oh, I suppose they will find it out. And besides, Cora, honestly, don’t you think we would be – lonely without – the boys?”

Cora burst into a merry laugh. “There, Bess, my dear, you have broken the watchword – you are to be responsible for the boys. We pledged ourselves, as we always do, to ‘keep them out’ this time.”

When Jack heard the news he hugged Cora in the very presence of Bess. The sister knew what he meant (it was getting away from the detectives), although Bess was somewhat embarrassed at the extravagant show of affection. Then Jack did what a boy does “when in doubt,” he started a series of somersaults and sofa pillow turns, until Cora declared he quite forgot that he was in the company of ladies.

With profuse apologies he assumed an unwonted show of dignity, and without another word went upstairs and called up first Ed and then Walter on the telephone, telling each all he knew, and all he could guess about the trip to Lookout Beach, and fairly begged the boys to go along!

“I am afraid the girls will have to spoil their trip if we don’t go,” he said to Ed, who had made a half excuse, “for they really couldn’t travel along that road without us!”

And this in the very face of the fact that the elders were going along, and that the girls had declared that no boys could go!

“Won’t there be high jinks!” Jack asked, and he told himself, with a jolly chuckle, as he hung up the receiver and went down to the girls, that if any “jinks” were lacking, it would not be his fault.

“Too bad we fellows can’t take you out a little way,” he said, innocently, as he came downstairs, “but the fact is, we have made plans – our plans are still secret!” and Jack ran down the walk like the big boy that he was in spite of his few years of good record at college.

Turning as he reached the street, he shouted:

“Oh you – secrets!” then Cora and Bess were left alone.

“Well, I suppose I can go,” said Cora, finally, “although it does seem strange to leave town in such haste. But after all, if I remain longer, I shall only find more things to be attended to, and I will be just as well off to – escape from them.”

Bess was delighted, of course. She knew Cora so well, and she had grave fears that the methodical young girl would not run away at such short notice, but, now that she had gained her chum’s consent, Bess had need to hurry back and finish up her own preparations.

Jack was on his way to the post-office, when he saw the now familiar figure of little Andy. He hailed him pleasantly, and the boy lost no time in hurrying up to the tall young man who waited for him.

“Now, Andy,” began Jack, “suppose you tell me about those women – those who are after my sister. When did they say they were coming to Chelton?”

“I heard them tell the – the men that they would come in on the two o’clock trolley,” said Andy, “and that was the reason I thought it would be better fer your sister to be – out of town. Is she goin’?”

“I guess she is,” replied Jack, much amused at the boy’s earnestness. “But she has no reason, you know, to want to avoid any one.”

Andy hung his head. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets. This latter gesture Jack knew was equivalent to preparing for a sudden shot of information.

“It looks bad,” said the boy, timidly.

“What looks bad?” demanded Jack.

“Well,” said Andy, “maybe you won’t believe me, but it was just this way. I was under the window listening, when all of a sudden old Ramsy took out of her pocketbook a slip of paper. She handed it to the man, and said that she had found it in the girls’ room, and that she was sure that your sister gave it to Rose, for she saw her slip something into her hand as Rose went out from the shed. The man read what was on the paper and then put it on the window sill. A nice little breeze came along – ”

“And blew it right out to you,” finished Jack, not attempting to hide his surprise at the boy’s astuteness.

“Yep, and I’ve got it right here,” Andy declared, jabbing his hand into his torn blouse, and then from the depths of what might have been a handkerchief, had it not been beyond identification, he produced a card.

“That’s my sister’s card,” said Jack, still showing surprise. Then he turned to the reverse side. He read the words, written in pencil: Clover Cottage – Lookout Beach. “That’s nothing,” he added, “that’s the cottage where my sister is going to spend the summer. She wrote it on the card for a memorandum, I suppose, and forgot about it.”

“But Nellie and Rose had it in their room,” persisted Andy.

“Perhaps my sister asked them to write to her,” went on Jack, wondering why he bothered so much with the idle chat of an ignorant urchin.

“Well, Mrs. Ramsy said if she could get hold of the girl that gave that card to her girls, she would not wait for judge or justice but she would – well, she said she would do lots of things.”

Jack laughed outright. “Now, see here,” he went on, finally, “you had better take this car back to Squaton, Andy. You have been away from home for a long time, and the first thing you know they will have detectives looking for you. Or, maybe, they will say – you ran after the girls!”

It was not like Jack to joke in that strain, but the lad looked so comical, and he said such serious things in contrast to his appearance, that for the life of him, Jack could not resist the temptation to tease him.

“Nope. I’m not goin’ home,” declared Andy. “Mom knows where I am, and I am goin’ to stay in town till the two o’clock trolley comes in.”

“To meet the Ram and the Schenk?” asked Jack, laughing. “Then at least take this change, and look the town over. Buy some ice cream and – a brick bat or two to have ready when – ”

“There’s a fellow I know,” interrupted Andy, and taking the proffered coin, he was soon lost to Jack, and to the business of detecting the detectives.

CHAPTER XIII – GOING AND COMING

The weather was uncertain – it might rain, but there were cobwebs on the grass, which meant “clear.” But the sun did not come out, and it was past noon.

These unfavorable conditions were unusual on a day when the motor girls were to make a run, but Bess, Belle and Cora were almost too busy with their preparations to pay much heed to the possibility of rain while en route.

The start was to be made at two o’clock, and the chimes on the dining room mantel of the Kimball home had just warned Cora that half the hour 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 motor trunk. “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 that way so peculiar to boys who have a great deal to do at the time; the science of which studied indifference is absolutely impossible for a girl to fathom.

“Why this fluttering fluster, sis?” he asked, crumbling deeper in the leather-cushioned chair. “You will positively get overheated and ruin – your – complex – ion!” This last was drawled out with the most aggravating yawn.

“Why, Jack, I have to be in my car at ten minutes to two, and do you see the time?”

“No, but I hear it. I wonder who on earth put a clock to ticking. Bad enough to hear the hours knock, but this constant tick – ”

“Jack, whatever you have to say to me please say it,” interrupted the sister. “I know perfectly well that this preamble is portentous.”

“No, it’s merely pretentious,” answered Jack, drawing from his pocket the card that Andy had turned over to him. “Do you happen to remember where you dropped this?”

It was a simple guess, but Jack tried it.

“Dropped that?” repeated Cora, taking the card from his hand. “Why, I declare! I have looked everywhere for that. I wanted it last night. I had actually forgotten the name of the cottage, and I wanted to give it 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 some impatience. “Don’t you know I have to hurry, and you are teasing me this way?”

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

“Now, see here, sis,” he said, “I am telling you the exact truth, and when I say exact, I mean exact. Andy told me he caught this card on a fly as it flew out the Ramsy window, when they were letting fly their opinions about the motor girls. Andy caught the card on the first bounce, stuck it in his pocket – no, let me see! He carried it against his heart, between his second and third ribs – ”

“Oh, I know!” interrupted Cora. “I dropped that in the shed when I opened my purse to pay for the berries. I thought I felt something slip 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 just guess it.”

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

“That was it,” replied her brother. “You see, old lady Ramsy has an idea you want to abduct those girls. But it was a lucky breeze that blew the card to Andy. Otherwise you might expect an early call at Clover Cottage from the honorable Mrs. R of the Strawberry Patch.”

“As if there was anything strange about me dropping my own personal card,” mused Cora aloud. “And what difference did it make who might pick it up?”

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

“It seemed foolish for the Robinsons to hire a car to take their friends down when I am riding alone,” she said, “but the girls made me promise not to offer my car, but to carry the bags in the tonneau – Bess and Belle expect to get as far as possible from the – chaperone conveyance. Well, Jack dear, I am rather a naughty sister to run away, and leave you thus, when mother specially intrusted you to my safekeeping. But you have compelled me to go, haven’t you?”

“Forced you to,” admitted Jack, picking up the bag and following her to the door.

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

“I will go as far as the trolley line,” he said. “I want to see if Andy takes that two o’clock car when it turns back.”

There were many little things to be spoken of between brother and sister, and, as they drove along, Cora referred more than once to the visit of the detectives. Jack assured her that he would attend to them and then, reaching the turnpike, where the trolley line ended, he bade her 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 rear platform two elderly ladies alighted rather awkwardly. They were queerly dressed, and the larger, she in the gingham gown, with the brown shirred bonnet, almost yanked the other from the steps to the ground, in attempting to assist her.

“The Ramsy and the Schenk!” Jack told himself. “Cora did not get away any too soon!”

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

“That’s them,” said Andy, almost in a whisper, “and there come the two detectives! If you like you can stay away from your house, and I will lay around, and find out what happens!”

“Why, they will want to see me!” declared Jack, in some surprise at the suggestion.

“Suppose they do? Let them want,” answered the urchin. “If I was you I‘d just lay low. My mother always says ’the least said is the easiest mended,’ and she knows.”

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

“Maybe you’re right, Andy,” he said. “I believe I am busy this afternoon. But take care that you don’t get in the scrap. They will be bound to have revenge on some one.”

Andy sprang back of the car to avoid being observed by the women, as they turned to see which way they should go. Jack was not afraid of being noticed by the women, and he was a stranger to the detectives. The latter directed the women to walk over to the avenue, and then they 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 in advance of the others.

“The Imp of the Strawberry Patch,” thought Jack, in his usual way of making a story from a title. “He’s a queer little chap, but not so slow, after all. How very much more reasonable it is for me to turn in and talk with Ed and Walter, than to go back home and jab answers at that 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. Then he decided:

“All’s fair in love and war, and if this isn’t war, it’s a first-class sham battle.”

Andy was out of sight. The last “rays” of the two country skirts could just be made out, as their owners trudged along the avenue, and Jack Kimball took up his tune, where he had left it off, thrust his hands into his pockets, and sauntered off in the direction of the town garage.

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

“Are you sure, Jack Kimball,” demanded Ed, “that the young ladies will be in no way put out by our rudeness? I have a particular desire to please the ladies.”

“Oh, you’ll please them, all right,” replied Jack, taking a seat on the step of a handsome car, just in front of the one his friends were busy at. “There is nothing on earth pleases a girl so much as to run after her, when she distinctly says you shall not go.”

“Hear ye! The expert!” called out Walter, as he rubbed the chamois over the brass lamps at the front of his runabout. “Jack happens to know all about the game. Don’t you remember the success of our hay-mobile run last year, when we went after the girls on their tour? Well, take it from me, the event this year will be equally disastrous – only more so,” and Walter gave a last flourish to the lamp-polisher, then did a few fancy steps, in front of the car, to see that 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 be within call, should they need us, but far enough away to be out of danger of their – Walter, what do you call it when a girl declares she can’t bear a thing, and she just loves it?”

“Oh, that’s – that’s good taste,” replied Walter, running his hands through his hair with the doubtful purpose of removing from them some of their lately acquired gasoline and polishing paste.

“Then, according to Walt, we must keep at a respectful distance from their good taste,” finished Jack.

“You are sure – the ghost works all right?” asked Walter. “There is nothing 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 turned into 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 get anywhere in time to – have breakfast, for instance?”

“Well, my machine is in fine shape,” declared Jack, “and I just count on the Get There beating your little Comet if yours is a newer machine. With this calculation we should get to the Wayside by eight o’clock. The motor girls are going to put up there for the night, and we may be able to put down there, if it appears out of good style for us to put up there.”

“Why didn’t they go right on – start in time to reach the beach to-night?” inquired Ed.

“Oh, just a whim. Girls want all that’s coming to them, and a night at a 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 was becoming famous among his chums for his keen interest in the girls and their doings.

“Not much,” answered Jack. “They are going the long way ’round. Do you suppose they would go over the new road? Why, the dust would blind Cora 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 of the 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 of the pig skin fever. I’ll bet they’re made out of junk, and you got stuck. Three dollars for a pair of gloves to save your lily-white hands – your lily-white hands!” and he ended in the strain of the familiar college song.

“Well, I’ll be going,” said Jack. “See to it that neither of you fellows do so much primping that we miss our – guess,” and with that the three young men parted, each going his own way to make ready for the run after the motor girls.