The Motor Girls on a Tour by Margaret Penrose (page 3)

She had her desire. Never was weather more perfect, never were better country roads discovered and never could there have been a more jolly party of girls.

Maud was enchanted with Ebbinflow. She declared the watering place was a perfect fairyland, but some of her companions hinted that it was the style of the gowns that attracted her. Still they spent the best part of a day there, enjoying the bathing and coming back in the cool of the evening much refreshed.

“Now, Bess, it’s your choice for our destination to-morrow,” announced Cora at a little luncheon just before retiring time. “But please don’t choose ruins or a watering place.”

“The woods for mine,” announced Bess. “I heard of a lovely grove about twenty-five miles from here – “

“Twenty-five miles to find an ordinary grove,” said Maud.

“Oh, but it’s not an ordinary one,” declared Bess. “It is quite extraordinary.”

A delightful fancy dress ball was given that evening at the girls’ club, where our friends stopped, and this made a pleasant break in the tour and a welcome relief from spark plugs, carburetors and the cranking of motors, much as the girls had come to care for their cars.

Two days more were spent in visiting well-known places of interest, and on one trip Maud and Bess, who managed to slip away from their companions, went through several old farmhouses in search of the table. Once they had hopes that they were on the track, as an elderly woman declared she had just what they were looking for, but it proved to be far from it, though she was anxious to sell it to them.

“Oh, dear, I hoped we could find it,” said Bess as they came out.

Next morning Tillie declared it was her turn to say where the trip should be, and she picked out an exclusive antique shop, about twenty miles from Breakwater, in which direction the cars were soon speeding.

“I’ll get a warming pan if there is one in the place,” announced Tillie, whose love for the old copper pan with the long and awkward handle was almost a joke with her friends.

“Well, I do hope if you can’t get a pan that you’ll not load us up with lead pipe and such stuff,” said Cora with a laugh. “I remember very well that last day at school when you came back from Beverly. My, what a sight you were! What did you ever do with the junk?”

“Indeed, it was not junk,” objected Tillie, “but a lot of the very handsomest glass knobs and brass candlesticks, and my samovar.”

“You surely did not carry a samovar!” exclaimed Maud.

“Indeed I did,” replied the little German, “else I should not have gotten it in the morning. I know those antique men. They are like a thermometer – go up and down with simple possibilities.”

Ray was as pretty as ever, Maude just as sweet and Daisy just as gentle, while Cora and Gertrude had added new summer tints to their coloring. Adele and Tillie were still bubbling over with enthusiasm, the twins were exceptionally happy, the morning mail having brought good news – so that all were “fine and fit” when they started on the ride to the antique shop.

The day was of that sort that comes in between summer and fall, when one time period borrows from the other with the result of making an absolutely perfect “blend.”

Ray had changed places with Belle Robinson, so that Belle was in the Whirlwind and Ray in the Flyaway, and when the procession was moving it attracted the usual public attention.

But the motor girls were now accustomed to being stared at; in fact, they would have missed the attention had they been deprived of it, for it was something to have a run with all girls – and such attractive girls.

“What if we should find the table at the antique shop!” suddenly said Belle to Ray. “Somehow I have a feeling – “

“Let me right out of your machine, Bess Robinson,” joked Ray. “I have had all I want of `feelings’ since we started on this trip. I rather think the one where the goat or sheep or whatever it was did the actual `feeling’ was about the `utmost,’ as Clip would say. Poor Clip! I wonder what she is about just now.”

“About as frisky as ever, I’ll wager,” said Belle. “I never could understand that girl.”

“Well,” objected Bess, “it would be hard to understand any one who is only in Chelton two months at summer. If you were at school all year and came home for new clothes, I fancy I would scarcely understand my own twin sister.”

“Strange,” went on Ray, “that boys always so well understand a girl of that type. Now I do not mean that in sarcasm,” she hurried to add, noting the impression her remark had made, “but I have always noticed that the girls whom girls think queer boys think just right.”

“Pure contrariness,” declared Bess. “I don’t suppose a boy like Jack Kimball thinks more of a girl just because she keeps her home surroundings so mysteriously secret.”

As usual, Bess had blundered. She never could speak of Jack Kimball and Clip Thayer without “showing her teeth,” as Belle expressed it.

The machines were running along with remarkable smoothness. The Flyaway seemed to be singing with the Whirlwind, while Daisy’s car had ceased to grunt, thanks to the efforts of the workman at her aunt’s place.

“What will the antique man think of three autos stopping at his door?” inquired Adele of Cora.

“Think? Why, it will be the best advertisement he ever had. Likely he will pay us to come again,” replied Cora.

The street upon which “the mahogany shop” was situated was narrow and dingy enough – the sort of place usually chosen to add to the “old and odd” effect of the things in the dusty window.

The proprietor was outside on a feeble-looking sofa. As Cora predicted, he evidently was honored with the trio of cars that pulled up to the narrow sidewalk. Tillie, with the air of a connoisseur, stepped into the shop before the little man with the ragged whiskers had time to recover from his surprise.

“Have you a warming pan?” she inquired straightaway, whereat, as was expected, the man produced almost every other imaginable sort of old piece save, of course, that asked for.

But Tillie liked to look at all the stuff, and was already running the risk of blood poison, as Cora whispered to Gertrude, with her delving into green brasses and dirty coppers.

With the same thought uppermost in their minds, Bess, Belle and Cora were soon busy examining the old furniture. There were many curious and really valuable pieces among the collection, for this man’s shop was famous for many a mile.

“Tables!” whispered Belle. “Did you ever think there were so many kinds?”

Cora approached the owner. “Have you an inlaid table – a card table or one that could be used for one? I would fancy something in unpolished wood.”

“I know just what you mean,” answered the man, “and I expect to have one in a few days. In fact, I already have an order for one – with anchors and oars inlaid.”

Cora did not start. She winked at Bess, who was always apt to “bubble over.”

“Anchors?” repeated Cora. “Set in on the sides, I suppose? Well, that would be odd. But where can you get such a piece as that?”

Cora did not mean to ask outright where the piece might be obtained; what she meant was: “That will surely be a difficult thing to find.”

“Oh, there is one – some place,” replied the man, little dreaming what a tumult his words were creating in the brains of the anxious motor girls. “And when I get an order I always get the article. I shall have a warming pan for this young lady by to-morrow noon.”

“Then suppose I order a table, like the one with the oars and anchors?” ventured Cora. “Could I get that?”

“Oh, no, miss,” and he shook his head with importance. “You do not understand the trade. That would be a duplicate, and in furniture we guarantee to give you an original – I can only get one seaman’s card table, and that is ordered.”

Cora smiled and walked off a little to gain time, and to think. Her manner told the girls plainly not to mention the matter. She would act as wisely as she was capable of doing. She overhauled some blue plates and selected a pair of “Baronials.”

The man went into ecstasies, describing “every crack in the dishes,” Maud said to Daisy, but Cora bought the plates, and paid him his price without question.

Adele and Tillie had piled up quite a heap of brass and copper, and, unlike Cora, they argued some about the cost, but finally compromised, and put the entire heap into an old Chinese basket which the man “threw in.”

“Then I cannot get a table,” said Cora, purposely displaying a roll of bills which she was replacing in her purse.

“Not exactly that kind,” answered the man. “But something very much handsomer, I assure you. If you will call in a day or two I will show you something unmatched in all the country. A house has just sold out, and I have bought all the mahogany.”

CHAPTER XXI

PERPLEXITIES

When Cecilia Thayer in her own little runabout, the Turtle, went over the road to Mrs. Salvey’s cottage, after the visit to the Hastings, her alert mind was occupied with many questions.

She had advised the mother to go to court to account for her own child, a most peculiar proceeding, but one insisted upon by a well-meaning organization, the special duty of which was to care for children. What sort of story Mrs. Salvey’s relative may have told to bring such a course about, neither she nor Cecilia knew. But at any rate a private hearing was arranged for, and now Cecilia was on her way to fetch the widow to town.

Driving leisurely along, for the Turtle could not be trusted to hurry, Cecilia had ample time to plan her own course of action, should the judge insist upon having Wren shown in court. This Cecilia felt sure would be dangerous to the extremely nervous condition of the child, and it was such a move she most dreaded.

“I will call Dr. Collins,” thought Cecilia, “and have him state the facts, if necessary. But then I would have to give an account of my own part,” came the thought, “and that would mean so much to me just now.”

The “burr r-rr-r” of an approaching automobile startled her. She turned and confronted Rob Roland.

“Well,” he exclaimed, his pleasure too evident, “this is luck. Were you going to Aunt Salvey’s?”

Cecilia was annoyed. But she had no other course than to reply that she was going to the cottage.

“So am I,” replied the young man, “and very likely our business is of the same nature.”

“I am going to fetch her into town to the hearing,” spoke up Cecilia, “and I have to hurry along.”

“And I, too, was going to fetch her. She is quite in demand, it seems,” and he stretched his thin lips over his particularly fine teeth in something like a sneer. “I wish I had known you were coming out; I should have invited you to ride with me.”

“Thanks,” said Cecilia indifferently. “But I could hardly have accepted. I had some calls to, make as I came along.”

“Yes, I saw your machine at Hastings. How’s the chap getting on?”

“Paul is almost better,” replied Cecilia, making an effort to get out of talking distance. But he knew exactly why she sent her machine ahead, and while too diplomatic to actually bar her way, he, too, opened the throttle to increase the speed of his car.

It was very aggravating. Cecilia had expected to have an important talk alone with Mrs. Salvey.

Without a doubt this was also the very thing Rob Roland intended to do. If only she could get Mrs. Salvey into her car. But if she should prefer to ride with her nephew.

For some short distance Cecilia rode along without attempting conversation with the young man who was driving as close to her car as it was possible for him to do. Finally he spoke:

“Have you ever been in a courtroom?” he asked.

“No,” she replied curtly.

“Then you are sure to make a hit. Bet your picture will be in the paper to-morrow.”

“What!” gasped Cecilia. “I understood this was to be a private hearing.”

“Nothing’s private from the newspaper chaps. They make more of chamber hearings than the open affairs. Always sure to be something behind the doors, you know.”

The thought flashed through the girl’s mind that he was trying to frighten her – to keep her away from the hearing.

“Well, I hope they have decent cameras,” she managed to say indifferently.

He glanced at her with a look that meant she would make a picture. And in this, at least, he was honest, for the girl was certainly attractive in her linen coat, her turn-over collar and her simple Panama hat. She looked almost boyish.

“Better let me call Aunt Salvey,” he said as they neared the cottage. “But there she is – waiting for us.”

Cecilia urged the Turtle slightly ahead, then stopped suddenly. She was almost nervous with suppressed excitement.

“All ready?” she asked as Mrs. Salvey greeted first her, then the young man.

“Yes. I wanted to be on time,” replied the woman, stepping down from the porch.

“Well, you cannot ride in two cars,” called young Roland, “and this is – if I must be impolite – the best machine, Aunt Salvey.”

“But you had an appointment with me,” pressed Cecilia, pretending to joke. “I would not trust even Mr. Roland to get you there on time, so I came myself.”

“Of course,” replied the widow, puzzled at the situation, “it was good of you to come, Rob, but I must go with Miss Thayer. I had arranged to do so.”

“Just as you like,” he said, tossing his head back defiantly, “but you know it would look better. Oh, we know perfectly well where Wren is,” he sneered, “and if you go to see her this afternoon I am going, too.”

So this was his scheme – he would follow them to find the child’s hiding place.

Mrs. Salvey stepped into Cecilia’s car. Her face was whiter than the widow’s ruche she wore in her black bonnet. She trembled as Cecilia took her hand. What if she were making a mistake in trusting so much to this young girl, and so defying her antagonistic relatives! What if they should attempt to prove that she was not properly caring for her child! And if they should take Wren from her!

“Perhaps I ought not to anger him,” she whispered to the girl. “Do you think I had best go with him?”

“After I have had a chance to say a word or two, you may get out if you like,” replied Cecilia hastily. “But I must caution you not to mention where Wren is, no matter how they press you. If they insist upon knowing I shall call Dr. Collins. That is the most important thing. Next, don’t tell who were the last persons who signed the promise book. Now, you may get out and make a joke of it. I will trust to luck for the rest.”

CHAPTER XXII

THE CHILDREN’S COURT

Judge Cowles was a gentleman of what is called the “old-fashioned” type. He was always gentle, in spite of the difficult human questions he was constantly called upon to decide, and which necessarily could not always be decided to suit both parties involved in the legal dispute. But when Mrs. Salvey walked into his room and took a seat beside Cecilia Thayer he started up in surprise. He had known Mrs. Salvey long ago, when she lived by the sea with her father-in-law, Captain Salvey. Many a time had judge Cowles ridden in the little boat that the captain took such pride in demonstrating, for the boat was rigged up in an original way, and the captain was choice about his companions.

“Why, Mrs. Salvey!” he exclaimed, with the most cordial voice. “I am surprised to see you!”

Mrs. Salvey bowed, but did not trust herself to speak. She felt humiliated, wronged, and was now conscious of that deeper pang – stifled justice. Judge Cowles would be fair – and she would be brave.

Cecilia, young and inexperienced as she was, felt a glad surprise in the words of the judge; if he knew Mrs. Salvey he must know her to be a good mother.

A man of extremely nervous type, who continually rattled and fussed with the typewritten pages he held in his hand, represented the Children’s Society. Evidently he had prepared quite an argument, Cecilia thought. Close to him sat Rob Roland, and the stout man whom the motor girls had met on the road after the robbery of the mailbag. Cecilia recognized him at once, and he had the audacity to bow slightly to her.

There were one or two young fellows down in the corner of the room, sitting so idly and so flagrantly unconcerned that Cecilia knew they must be newspaper men – time enough for them to show interest when anything interesting occurred.

The case just disposed of – that of a small boy who had been accused of violating the curfew law – was settled with a reprimand; and as the crestfallen little chap slouched past Cecilia, she could not resist the temptation of putting out her hand and tugging pleasantly at his coat sleeve.

“You’ll be a good boy now,” she said, with her most powerful smile. But the agent of the Children’s Society, he with the threatening papers in his hand, called to the boy to sit down, and the tone of voice hurt Cecilia more than the insolent look turned fully upon her by Rob Roland.

The judge was ready for the next case – it was that of the Children’s Society against Mrs. Salvey. Cecilia could hear the hum from the newspaper corner cease, she saw Mr. Reed, he of Roland, Reed & Company, and the same man who had just bowed to her, take some papers from his pocket.

Then the judge announced that he was ready to hear the case.

“This woman, your honor,” began the nervous man, “is charged with wilfully neglecting her child in the matter of withholding the child from relatives who have for years been both supporting and rendering to the child necessary medical aid.”

Mrs. Salvey’s face flushed scarlet. Cecilia was almost upon her feet. But the others seemed to take the matter as the most ordinary occurrence, and seemed ,scarcely interested.

“This child,” went on the agent, “is a cripple” – again Cecilia wanted to shout – “and mentally deficient.”

“That is false!” cried Mrs. Salvey. “She is mentally brilliant.”

“One minute, madam,” said the judge gently.

“To prove that the child has hallucinations,” pursued the man, reading from his papers, “I would like to state that for some years she has kept a book – called a promise book. In this she collected the names of all the persons she could induce to put them down, claiming that when the right person should sign she would recover some old, imaginary piece of furniture, which, she claimed, held the spirit of her departed grandfather.”

The man stopped to smile at his own wit. Cecilia and Mrs. Salvey were too surprised to breathe – they both wanted to “swallow” every breath of air in the room at one gulp.

“And the specific charge?” asked the judge, showing some impatience.

“Well, your honor, we contend that a mother who will wilfully take such a child away from medical care, and hide her away from those who are qualified to care for her, must be criminally negligent.”

The judge raised his head in that careful manner characteristic of serious thought.

“And what do you ask?” he inquired.

Cecilia thought she or Mrs. Salvey would never get a chance to speak – to deny those dreadful accusations.

“We ask, your honor,” and the man’s voice betrayed confidence, “that this child be turned over to the Children’s Society. We will report to the court, and make any desired arrangements to satisfy the mother.”

Turn Wren over to a public society! This, then, was the motive – those Rolands wanted to get the little one away from her own mother.

“Mrs. Salvey,” called the judge, and the white-faced woman stood up. As she did so, Mr. Reed, the lawyer, advanced to a seat quite close to that occupied by the judge. Rob Roland shifted about with poorly – hidden anxiety.

“You have heard the charge,” said the judge very slowly. “We will be pleased to hear your answer.”

“One minute, your honor,” interrupted Lawyer Reed. “We wish to add that on the day that our doctor had decided upon a hospital operation for the child, the child was secretly smuggled off in an automobile by a young girl, and a young sporting character of this town.”

Had Cecilia Thayer ever been in a courtroom before, she might have known that lawyers resort to all sorts of tricks to confuse and even anger witnesses. But, as it was, she only felt that something had hit her – a blow that strikes the heart and threatens some dreadful thing. The next moment the blood rushed to her cheeks, relieved that pressure, and she was ready – even for such an insulting charge.

Mrs. Salvey was again called, and this time she was not interrupted. She told in a straight-forward manner of the illness of her little girl, of her own difficulty in obtaining sufficient money to have the child treated medically, and of how her husband’s cousin, Wilbur Roland, senior member of the firm of Roland, Reed & Company, had come forward and offered her assistance.

“Then why,” asked the judge, “did you take the child away?”

Mrs. Salvey looked at Cecilia. Lawyer Reed was on his feet and ready to interrupt, but the judge motioned him to silence.

“I took her away because I feared the treatment was not what she needed, and I had others offered,” replied Mrs. Salvey.

“Other medical treatment?” asked the judge.

“Yes,” answered the mother.

“Then she is being cared for?” and judge Cowles looked sharply at the children’s agent.

“Most decidedly,” answered Mrs. Salvey with emphasis. “And not only is she better, but can now stand – she has not been able to do that in ten years.”

“It’s a lie!” shouted Rob Roland, so angered as to forget himself entirely. “She is a hopeless cripple.”

“Have you any witness?” asked the attorney of Mrs. Salvey, while the judge frowned at Rob and warned him to be careful or he might be fined for contempt of court.

The mother turned to Cecilia. “This young girl can corroborate my statement,” she answered.

As Cecilia stood up the reporters actually left their places and very quietly glided up to seats near the trembling girl.

“Would they make a scandal of it?” she was thinking. “That lawyer’s remark about Jack Kimball “

“Your name?” asked the judge.

She replied in a steady voice.

“And your occupation?”

Cecilia hesitated. She was not yet ready to make public the ambition she had so earnestly worked for.

“A student,” she replied finally.

“Of what?” asked Rob Roland.

“Young man,” said the judge sternly, “I am hearing this case, and any further discourtesy from you will be considered as contempt.”

The youth smiled ironically. He was already accustomed to such usage, and did not mind it in the least if only he could gain his point, but this time he had failed.

“You know the child – Wren Salvey?” asked the judge.

“Yes. I have been in close attendance upon her for some weeks,” replied Cecilia.

“And you can state that she is improved in health since leaving her mother’s house?”

“Very much improved. If she had not lost a very dear treasure, over which she grieves, I believe she would be almost well soon.”

Cecilia looked very young and very pretty. She spoke with the conviction of candor that counts so much to honest minds, and judge Cowles encouraged her with a most pleasant manner. The newspaper men were scribbling notes rapidly. Rob Roland was looking steadily at the chandelier at the risk of injury to his neck – so awkward was his position.

“You are the young lady who removed the child?” questioned the magistrate.

“Yes,” replied Cecilia.

“And her accomplice?” shouted Rob Roland questioningly.

“Leave the room!” ordered the judge. “I think there is a different case behind this than the one we are hearing. I shall inquire into it, and, for the good of the child and her wronged mother, I shall order a thorough investigation. What motive have those who brought up this alleged case? There is absolutely no grounds for this action. The case is dismissed.”

So suddenly did the relief come to Cecilia that she almost collapsed. She looked at Mrs. Salvey, who was pressing her handkerchief to her eyes.

“It is all right,” whispered Cecilia. “Oh, I am so glad!”

A stir in the room attracted their attention. Cecilia turned and faced Jack Kimball.

Jack was hurrying up to the judge’s chair, and scarcely stopped to greet Cecilia.

“Mr. Robinson wishes you to detain these gentlemen a few minutes,” said Jack to judge Cowles. “He is on his way here.”

A messenger was sent to the corridor after Rob Roland. The other lawyers were discussing some papers, and in no hurry to leave.

Presently Mr. Robinson and two other gentlemen entered. The face of the twins’ father was flushed, and he was plainly much excited.

“I have just heard from my daughters,” he began, “who are away on a motor tour. They state that the day my papers were taken from the mailbag they met on the road a man answering the description of this gentleman,” indicating Mr. Reed. “They described him exactly, his disfigured thumb being easily remembered. Now the young fellow who was `held-up’ that day, and who has been sick since in consequence, also says he felt, while blindfolded, that same one-jointed thumb. Further than that,” and Mr. Robinson was actually panting for breath, “my girls can state, and prove, that this same man was at a tea-house near Breakwater discussing papers, which the young girls who conduct the tea-house plainly saw. The papers were stamped with the seals of my patent lawyers.”

Rob Roland was clutching the back of the seat he stood near. The lawyer accused, Mr. Reed, had turned a sickly pallor.

Jack Kimball stepped up. “There is present,” he said, “one of the motor girls who was on the road at that time. She may be able to identify this man.”

What followed was always like a dream to Clip – for, leaving off legalities, we may again call her by that significant name. She faced the man to whom she had talked on the road, he who had wanted to help her with her runabout when she was unable to manage it herself. It was directly after Paul Hastings left them, and within a short time of the happening which had meant so much to Hazel’s brother. Clip told this, and, strange to say, the lawyer made no attempt to deny any part of her statement.

“We are prepared to answer when the case is called,” he said. “But it seems to me, Robinson, you went a long way for detectives. Did not the motor girls also tell you that they met me on the road to Breakwater two days ago?”

“Judge, I demand those papers!” called Mr. Robinson. “This fellow does not deny he took them.”

“When the ladies leave the room,” said the judge quietly, with that courteous manner that made Clip want to run up to him and throw her arms about his neck, “we may discuss this further. We are indebted to the young motor girl for her identification.”

When Clip took Mrs, Salvey out they went directly to the Kimball home, nor were they now afraid of being followed by the threatening and insulting Rob Roland.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MOTOR GIRLS ON THE WATCH

Cora Kimball was turning away from the antique shop as indifferently as if nothing there interested her. The other girls looked at her aghast.

Bess could scarcely be motioned to silence, for the “little mahogany man” came to close the door of the tonneau, incidentally to look over his customers.

“If you come again in a day or so,” he said to Cora, “I will have tables,” and he rolled his eyes as if the tables were to come from no less a place than heaven itself. “Oh, such tables!”

“I may,” replied Cora vaguely. “But I fancy I may have a seaman’s table made. I would not be particular about an original.”

“Wait, wait!” exclaimed the man. “If you do not care for an original I could make a copy. The one I am to get is something very, very original, and I will have it here. There is no law against making one like it.”

“Well,” said Cora, “I will be in Breakwater for a few days, and I may call in again. There,” as he handed in her blue plates, “these are splendid. Mother has a collection of Baronials.”

Then they started off.

Bess drove up to the Whirlwind.

“Why in the world didn’t you ask who had ordered the table?” she almost gasped. “If you knew that you could easily have traced it.”

“Wait, wait!” exclaimed Cora, in tones so like those of the shop proprietor that the girls all laughed heartily. “I will go to the shop again, and then I will see. Perhaps I will get the original – and then – well, wait – just wait.”

“You are a natural born clue hunter!” declared Daisy, “and I am just dying to get back to Aunt May’s to tell Duncan.”

“Now see here, girls,” called Cora very seriously, so that all in-the different machines might hear her, “this is a matter that must not be mentioned to any one. It would spoil all my plans if the merest hint leaked out. Now remember!” and Cora spoke with unusual firmness; “I must have absolute secrecy.”

Every girl of them promised. What is dearer to the real girl than a real secret – when the keeping of it involves further delights in its development?

Once back at Bennet Blade the girls whispered and whispered, until Cora declared they would all, forsooth, be attacked with laryngitis, if they did not cease “hissing,” and she called upon Doctor Bennet to bear out her statement.

Duncan was going to Chelton, and of course he took the trouble to ask what he might do there for the Chelton girls.

What he might do? Was there anything he might not do? The Robinson girls declared that their mail had not been forwarded, and they could not trust to mails, anyhow, since their father’s papers had been lost. Would it be too much trouble for him just to call? To tell their mother what a perfectly delightful time they were having, and so on.

And Maud Morris hated to bother him, but could he just stop at Clearman’s and get her magazine? She was reading a serial, and simply could not sleep nights waiting for the last instalment.

Of course he would go to see his uncle, Dr. Bennet, Sr. In fact, it was with Dr. Bennet he had the appointment; and when Daisy started to entrust him with her messages to her father, he insisted that she write them down – no normal brain could hold such a list, he declared.

Ray was what Bess termed “foxy.” She did not ask him to do a single thing. “She thinks he will fetch her a box of candy, or a bottle of perfume. That’s Ray,” declared Bess to Belle.

Cora certainly wanted to send many messages, with the opportunity of having them go first-hand. It did seem such a long time since she had seen Jack; then there was Hazel, poor child, penned up with a sick brother. And Wren and Clip. Why couldn’t Cora just run in to Chelton herself with Duncan?

The thought was all-conquering. It swayed every other impulse in Cora’s generous nature. Why should she stop at the thought of propriety? Was it not all right for her to ride with Doctor Bennet, to reach Chelton by noon and return before night?

She must go. She would go if every motor girl went along with her.

Mrs. Bennet was one of those dear women who seem to take girls right to her heart. As I have said, she was small and rosy, with that never-fading bloom that sometimes accompanies the rosy-cheeked, curly-headed girl far into her womanhood. Cora would go directly to her, and tell her. She would abide by her judgment.

Mrs. Bennet simply said yes, of course. And then she added that Cora might start off without letting the girls know anything about it. That would save a lot of explanation.

How Cora’s heart did thump! Duncan was going in his machine, and, like all doctors, he always preferred to have a man drive – his chauffeur was most skilful – doctors, even when young in their profession, do not willingly risk being stalled.

But in spite of Cora’s one guiding rule – “When you make up your mind stick to it” – she had many misgivings between that evening when her plans were made, and the next morning when she was to start off with Duncan Bennet. The other girls had gone out to an evening play in Forest Park, one of the real attractions of Breakwater, and at the last moment Cora excused herself upon some available pretense so that she was able to get her things together and see that her machine was safely put up, and then be ready to start off in the morning before the other girls had time to realize she was going.

“It does seem,” she reflected, “that I am always getting runaway rides.” Then she recalled how Sid Wilcox actually did run away with her once, as related in the “Motor Girls.” “And,” she told herself, “I seem to like running away with boys.”

This was exactly what worried Cora; she knew that others would be apt to make this remark. “But I cannot help it this time,” she sighed. “I have to go to Chelton, or – “

Cora was looking very pretty. Excitement seems to put the match to the flickering taper of beauty, hidden behind the self-control of healthy maidenhood. Her cheeks were aflame and her eyes sparkled so like Jack’s when he was sure of winning a hard contest.

“Dear old Jack!” she thought. “Won’t he be surprised to see me! That will be the best part of it. They will all be so surprised.”

She went down to the study, where she was sure to find Duncan.

“I suppose your mother has told you of my mad impulse,” she began rather awkwardly. “Do you think the folks will be glad to see me?”

What a stupid remark! She had no more idea of saying that than of saying: “Do you think it will snow?” But, somehow, when he put up his book and looked at her so seriously, she could not help blundering.

“They ought to be,” he said simply. Then she saw that he was preoccupied – scarcely aware that she was present.

“I beg your pardon,” he said directly, “but I was very busy thinking, just then.”

“Oh, I should not have disturbed you,” she faltered. “I will go away at once. I just wanted to be sure that you would wait for me – not run off and leave me.”

“Oh, do sit down,” he urged. “My brain is stiff, and I’ve got to quit for to-night. I haven’t told you what takes me to Chelton – in fact, I haven’t told mother. You see, she thinks I am such a baby that I find it better not to let her know when I am on a case. But the fact is, I am just baby enough to want to tell some one.”

He arranged the cushions in the big willow chair, and Cora sat down quite obediently. She liked Duncan – there was something akin to bravery behind his careless manner. “What he wouldn’t do for a friend!” she thought.

“Your case?” asked Cora. “I am very ignorant on medical matters, but I should love to hear about the Chelton case. I fancy I know every one in Chelton.”

“Well, you know Uncle Bennet, Daisy’s father, is quite a surgeon, and he has been called in this case by Dr. Collins. It is a remarkable case, and he has asked me to come in also.”

“It is that of a child who has been a cripple for some years, and who now is making such progress under the physical-training system that she promises to be cured entirely.

“A child?” asked Cora, her heart fluttering.

“Yes; and I rather suspect that you know her.” He seemed about to laugh. “Uncle mentioned your brother’s name in his invitation for me to go in on the case.”

“Oh, tell me,” begged Cora, “is it Wren?”

“Just let me see,” and he looked over some letters. “It seems to me it was some such fantastical name – yes, here it is. Her name is Wren Salvey.”

“Oh, my little Wren! And Clip is doing all this! Oh, I must go! Is she going to be operated upon?”

“Seems to me, little girl,” and the young doctor put his hand over hers as would an elderly physician, “that you are over excitable. I will have to be giving you a sedative if you do not at once quiet down. The child is not to be operated upon, as I understand it. It is simply what we call an observation case.”

“But she is at our house – she has been there since I came away. Why, however can all that be going on at home and no one there but the housekeeper – “

“The child was at your house, but is now in a private sanitarium,” he said quickly. “I have had the pleasure of being in close correspondence with your friend Clip.”

CHAPTER XXIV

CORA ‘S RESOLVE

For a moment Cora was dumfounded. Duncan Bennet a close friend of Clip!

The next moment the riddle was solved.

“Why, of course you know Clip,” she said. “She goes to your college.”

“Yes,” and he ran his white fingers through his “fractious” hair. “The fact is, Cora, I am quite as anxious to see Clip as to go in on the case. Haven’t seen her since school closed.”

“I’ll likely have some trouble in finding her,” he added presently. “Never can find her when I particularly want to, but if she is in Chelton I’m going to hunt her up.”

“Won’t she be at the sanitarium?” asked Cora, and she wondered why her own voice sounded so strained.

“I think not,” he replied. “Clip is a poster-girl, in our parlance, and we don’t let them in on real cases.”

“Poster?” asked Cora.

“Yes; it means she has had her picture in the college paper, with `Next’ under it. I don’t mind saying that I cut out that particular picture.”

“It must be lots of fun to be in such affairs,” said Cora. “I have often thought that the simple life of society is a mere bubble compared to what goes on where girls think.”

“Well, I am going early,” he said pleasantly. “I suppose you don’t mind running away before breakfast.”

“No, indeed,” she answered. “I rather fancy the idea. If I ever trusted myself to meet the girls I would surely `default.'”

“All right. My man is always on time. Mother will see that we are not hungry – I’ve got the greatest mother in the world for looking after meals.”

Cora laughed, and arose to go.

“I’ve told you a lot,” he said rather awkwardly, “but somehow I felt like telling you.”

“You may trust me,” replied Cora lightly. “I have such a lot of secrets, that I just know how to manage them – they are filed away, you know, each in its place.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You know, we don’t, as a rule, speak about our professional friends. Don’t say anything to Daisy about Clip. I think she would die if she knew I fancied her.”

He said this just like a girl, imitating Daisy.

“Why, she likes Clip,” declared Cora. “We all do.”

“Wait,” he said, and he raised a prophetic finger, “wait until Clip sails under her own colors. Then take note of her friends. This is the thorn in her side, as it were. She speaks of it often.”

How Cora’s head throbbed! Perhaps, as Duncan had said, she was over excited. But just now there seemed so many things to think about.

If she went to Chelton she might hear something that would give her a clue to Wren’s book. Jack insinuated that he had a clue when he spoke to her over the ‘phone. What if she should be able to trace both the book and the table! And bring Wren into her own!

As if divining a change in the girl’s mind, Duncan Bennet said:

“Now, you won’t disappoint me? I am counting on your company.”

“Well, I shall have to dream over it,” replied Cora. “Mother says it is always safest to let our ambitions cool overnight.”

“`Think not ambition wise, because ’tis brave?'” he quoted. But he did not guess how well that quotation fitted Cora’s case.

It seemed scarcely any time before the girls were back from the park, just bubbling over in girlish enthusiasm about the wonderful woodland performance. And that Cora should have missed it! Even Gertrude, the staid and steady, could not understand it.

The Bennets’ home was a very large country house, but with all the motor girls scattered over it the house seemed comparatively small. Chocolate and knickknacks were always served before bedtime, and Daisy had reason to be proud of her part in the entertainment of the girls.

“And to-morrow,” said Adele, between mouthfuls of morsels, “we shall have to decorate for the fete. I am going to do the Whirlwind all my own way, am I not, Cora?”

“You certainly may,” replied Cora vaguely. “I am the poorest hand at decorating. I prefer driving.”

And they all wondered why she took so little interest in the preparations for the fete.

“I know,” whispered Bess. “You are thinking of that little mahogany man. And so am I. I can’t just wait to see the table.”

Bright and early, the next morning the girls were astir. They had need to be “up with the lark,” for the gathering of stuffs with which to decorate cars is quite a task, and they planned to make the fete a memorable affair, as Belle put it.

“Wait till Cora comes down,” said Tillie. “Won’t she be surprised that I have already been over the meadow, and gotten so many beautiful, tall grasses!”

Mrs. Bennet appeared at that moment.

“My dears,” she began, “I have a surprise for you. Cora has taken a run home – she really had to go, but she will be back by nightfall. Now, there,” to Daisy, “you must not pout. Cora has been a faithful little captain, and, from what I understand, there have been a great many things to demand her attention at home. Go right on with your plans, and make her car the very prettiest, and when she gets back she will have some reason to be proud of her allies. I have arranged to be at home all day, and to do whatever I can to assist you, in Cora’s place.”

The girls were utterly surprised, but what could they say? Show displeasure to so affable a hostess? Never!

What they thought was, of course, a matter of their own personal business.

CHAPTER XXV

A WILD RUN’

“Speed her up, Tom,” ordered Dr. Duncan Bennet to his chauffeur, as he and Cora started out that bright, beautiful morning. “We will have all we can do to cover the ground and make home by nightfall.”

“Without a single stop,” remarked Cora, “I calculated we could do it. Do you think there is any possibility of us failing to get back?”

“Tom knows no end of short cuts,” said Duncan, settling himself down comfortably. “We take quite a different route to that which you girls came over.”

“Oh, yes, of course. We could never get to Chelton and back in one day over the roads which we came by,” replied Cora.

“The one controlling thought is,” said the young physician, “that an automobile is not a camel. No telling when its thirst will demand impossible quenching. But this is a first-rate car,” he went on, “and it has never gone back on me yet.”

“It rides beautifully,” agreed Cora, as the machine was speeding over the roads like the very wind. “After all, I do believe that an experienced chauffeur is a positive luxury “

“Now, now!” exclaimed Duncan. “Don’t go back on your constitution. You will have to report, I suppose. What do you imagine our little girls are thinking and doing about now?”

Cora laughed. Duncan seemed amused at the idea of “stealing” the captain of the club – he liked nothing better than a “row” with girls.

“Well, I suppose,” said Cora cautiously, “that they are scouring Breakwater for things to decorate the machines with. I am glad that I entrusted the Whirlwind to Tillie – she is so artistically practical that she will be sure to avoid making holes in the car to stick bouquets in.”

“The fellows will be up to-night. They have taken rooms at the Beacon. There’ll be no end of a rumpus if they strike Breakwater, and I am not there to pilot them.”

“Likely our girls would attempt to put them to rights,” said Cora, joking. “Just fancy a crowd of students, and those silly girls.”

“It is well that they can’t hear you,” remarked Duncan. “Of course, you are very – very sensible.”

“You mean – I should not have come?” she said, her face flushing.

“Oh, indeed, I meant nothing of the sort,” he hurried to explain. “In fact, I never could have carried out my plan if you had not come along. I am going to bring Clip out for the meet.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be splendid!” exclaimed Cora. “If only we can manage it. But she is always so busy – “

“Then I intend to make her stop work for a few days at least. I want my brother to meet her, and this – well, quite an opportunity.”

Cora looked at the earnest young man beside her. “Clip is worth knowing,” she said simply. Then she added: “I wonder if we could arrange it to have Hazel come? It would be just glorious to have the club complete after all our little drawbacks. If her brother is better I will not take `no’ for an answer. I shall simply insist upon Hazel coming.”

Cora was aglow with the prospects – if only everything would go along smoothly and no other “drawback” should occur.

“Your friends are from Exmouth, aren’t they?” asked Duncan. “I ought to know some of them; we played their team last year.”

“Oh, do you know Ed Foster? And Walter Pennington?” asked Cora.

“I happen to remember their names,” said Duncan. “I would be glad if we could manage to have them come out to the show. Let me see. How could we fix it up?”

“Jack has a car, and so has Walter,” replied Cora, while the chauffeur looked at his speedometer and noted that they were doing twenty-five miles an hour.

“Then,” said Duncan, “if we can fix it – But that observation case will take quite a little time.”

“You can attend to your case, and get Clip,” said Cora with a mischievous smile, “and I will attend to the boys.”

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Duncan. “You are ready and willing to make the `round up.’ Well,” and the car gave an unexpected bump that almost threw Cora over into her companion’s arms, “I would like first rate to have them all come to Breakwater, and our fellows would count it the best part of their vacation to have an auto run of that kind. If we find everything all right out in Chelton we will call a special meeting of the motor girls, the girls being you, and the motor boys being me, and then we will come to the quickest decision on record.”

Cora was arranging her goggles and veil. The speed of the car was playing sad havoc with her costume, and she was not too independent to want to look well when she got into her home-town.

“Look out, Tom!” called Duncan to his man. “Here is about where they enforce the speed laws, isn’t it?”

“We have to take chances,” replied the man, “if we expect to cover the ground.”

“Mercy!” exclaimed Cora. “Please do not take any chances with speed laws. I have a perfect horror of that sort of thing.”

“What’s she doing?” asked the doctor.

“Only twenty miles, sir,” replied the chauffeur, “and they allow us fifteen.”

“Couldn’t we just as well conform to the regulation speed?” asked Cora anxiously. It was rather unusual for her to show such timidity.

“Leave it to Tom,” replied the young doctor. “Chauffeurs are like house-maids – they must not be interfered with.”

Up to this time Cora had really not noticed the speed. Her conversation with Duncan had been altogether engrossing. But now she began to appreciate the situation, and this precluded all other considerations, even the thoughts of Chelton.

Duncan Bennet had no sister, and, consequently, was not versed in the art of “fidgets.” He only knew the ailment when it took definite form. But Cora was getting it – in fact, she now felt positively nervous.

How that machine did go! The speed delighted Duncan. Tom was like an eagle bending over his prey – he urged the car on with such determination. Once or twice Cora felt bound to exclaim, but Duncan only shook his head. It was going, that was all he seemed to care for. Near the station they were obliged to slow up some to look for trains. As they did so Cora saw another car dash by, and in she recognized the man now known to her as Mr. Reed, Rob Roland’s cousin.

She made no remark to Duncan; he seemed so occupied with his own thoughts. But when, after a few minutes, the same car passed them again, having made a circuit on a crossroad, and the same man stared at Cora as if to make sure it was she, she felt a queer uneasiness.

This time the other car shot ahead at such a wild pace that even Duncan’s machine was not speeding compared with that.

“Talk about going!” commented the physician; “just look at that fellow. If he can use up that much gasoline and escape the law, no need for us to worry.”

The chauffeur was simply intent upon speed – he seemed to have gone speed crazy, Cora thought.

They were traveling over a perfectly straight road, and Duncan Bennet took out his field glasses.

“Here,” he said to Cora, “I often find these interesting when on a long journey. Take a peek.”

Cora adjusted the glasses and peered ahead.

“That man,” she said, “has stopped at a small shed – “

“That’s the constable’s hang-out,” remarked Duncan. “I had to stop there once – just once,” and the thought was evidently funny, for he laughed boyishly.

“Yes,” went on Cora, “there is some one talking to him. Oh, Duncan,” and she clutched his arm nervously, “do tell Tom to drive slowly past there, for I think I know that man.”

“Go slow, Tom,” called Duncan carelessly. “We might be held up. Just let me take the glasses, Cora.”

He peered through the strong lenses. “The other car has gone on,” he said. “Perhaps the cop is a friend of your friend’s”; and again he laughed, much to Cora’s discomfort.

On and on the machine flew. Finally they were within a few rods of the little shed by the roadside. A man on a motor-cycle was waiting. As the Bennet car came up he shot out into the center of the road.

Duncan did not mistake his intention. Tom turned his head and gave the other a meaning look. Then the chauffeur slowed down – slower and slower.

“Stop!” called the man on the motor-cycle, at the same moment dismounting from his wheel.

Tom almost stopped. Cora thought he had turned off the gasoline, but the next moment he had shot past the surprised officer, and was going at a madder pace than ever.

Cora was frightened. Some motor-cycles can beat ordinary automobiles; she knew that. But Duncan was laughing. If only that man, Reed, was not on the same road just then.

“Can you make it?” asked Duncan, calling into the chauffeur’s ear.

“Don’t know,” replied the man. “But we may as well get as far out of the woods as possible.”

“Don’t worry, little girl,” said Duncan to Cora with that self-confidence peculiar to those who are accustomed to being obeyed. “We are all right. It is only a fine, at any rate, and I always carry small change.”

“Stop!” yelled the man at the rear. “You cannot cross the line, and if you don’t stop soon you will find your tires winded.”

A revolver shot sounded.

Tom drew up instantly. “I don’t fancy putting on new tires,” he said coolly, “so we may as well surrender.”

Duncan looked at the officer in a perfectly friendly way.

“Well, what’s up?” he asked indifferently.

“You ought to know,” replied the man, scowling angrily. “If I hadn’t stopped you land knows but you would have been over the falls. What’s the matter with you fellows, anyhow? Can’t you take a joy ride without committing murder and suicide ?”

“You’re mistaken,” replied Duncan. “I’m a doctor on a hurry call – “

“Yes, you are ! You look it!” and the officer sneered at Cora. “Tell that to the marines!”

“Well, what’s the price?” demanded Duncan with some impatience. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Wait till your hurry cools off,” said the officer, who from his own wild chase was now plainly uncomfortably warm. “You made the marked-off distance in the shortest time on record, from post to post in one minute.”

“How do you know?” asked the chauffeur sharply.

“What’s that to you?” replied the officer. “Didn’t I see you?”

“You did not!” shouted Tom. “Some one `squealed,’ and you have no proof of what you are saying.”

The man hesitated. Then he blurted out: “Well, what if a friend did tip me off? Wasn’t he in as much danger from your runaway machine as the next one?”

“That man!” whispered Cora to Duncan. “He stopped and told him to arrest us.”

“Well, the price?” called Duncan, with his hand in his pocket. “I tell you I am a doctor, and I am in a hurry to get to Chelton. Can’t you make it something reasonable – and then something for your own trouble?”

The man eyed Duncan sharply. “I was told you would say just that,” he said with a curious laugh.

“And that is just what the other fellow said to you,” spoke Tom. “Now look here, Hanna. I know how much you have got out of this already, and I happen to know the sort of coin that that sneak, Reed, carries. He has offered me some – at times. He travels out here quite some of late. Take my advice and be square. It is all bound to come out in the wash.”

Cora gazed at Duncan in astonishment. “I told you,” said the latter, “that it is best to leave a good man alone. Like a good cook, they usually know their own business.”

But the officer was not so sure. He hesitated, then said: “Well, I see judge Brown over in the meadow. He can settle it. Come along.”

CHAPTER XXVI

LEGAL STRATEGY

Cora was in despair. To be thus detained when there was not an hour to spare! Tom drew the machine well to the roadside. Duncan leisurely climbed out and then asked the girl if she would remain in the car.

“That’s the mean part of this business,” remarked Duncan; “they don’t want money – they want time – good, honest time.”

Then, of a sudden, with that boyishness that Cora had so greatly admired in so thoughtful a young man, he sprang off on a run toward the meadow, where the constable had indicated the judge could be found.

“Come on, friend,” he called good-naturedly to the officer on the wheel. “When a thing’s to be done, may as well do it. The sooner the quicker,” he joked, while Cora wondered more and more how so wronged a person could be so good-humored.

Tom fussed about the machine, looking to see that the official bullet had not struck through a tire. Evidently the constable did not expect Duncan to take him at his word, and go after the squire, for it took him some time to put his wheel against a tree and prepare to follow on foot.

“You can’t go that way,” he shouted to Duncan. “That’s all swamp.”

“Won’t hurt me,” replied the irrepressible Duncan. “I am taking the water cure.”

Soon Duncan was talking to the farmer – and the constable was still “picking his steps” toward the spot where the two stood.

“I am sure Duncan will win him,” thought Cora, “and perhaps we will not be so long delayed, after all.”

But Tom could not stand the suspense. He asked Cora if she would mind being left alone for a few minutes, and soon he, too, was hurrying over the meadow.

Cora had great faith in Tom’s judgment now, and was rather glad that he had gone to Duncan’s help. She stepped out of the car to gather a few wild flowers, and was just about to step in again when the rumble of an approaching machine attracted her attention.

She turned and saw coming toward her that man Reed. With assumed indifference she stepped back to the road to get another flower. This took her just a bit farther from his path than she would have been in the car, but as he came up she heard him slacken, then stop.

Her heart seemed to stand still. In an instant she realized what it meant for a girl to be alone on a road – she should not have left Breakwater, and the doctor and Tom should not have left her.

“Miss Kimball,” called a voice from the other car. “I am sorry to see you in this predicament. I am Mr. Reed, of Roland, Reed & Company,” and he said this with all possible courtesy. “I believe we have met before, and I came back to see if I might be of any assistance to you. This speeding business is rather troublesome, and I ventured to guess that you are most anxious to be in Chelton to-day, as there are so many interesting things going on there.”

For an instant Cora felt that she had wronged this man. Perhaps, after all, he was a perfect gentleman, and had nothing to do with their being detained. If only Duncan or Tom was there!

“Yes, I am in a hurry to get home,” admitted Cora. “But I think we will soon be off again.”

“Not very likely,” went on the other. “That old judge seems to delight in keeping folks away from their business. He has the most roundabout way possible of transacting matters. I was about to suggest that if you really are anxious to get to Chelton I would go over there and speak with your friend, and, as we are not so far away from the home town, it might be wise for you to ride with me. It is very awkward for a lady to be in this position. Sometimes a newspaper fellow comes along, and, as they say, `gets a story’ out of it.”

“Oh, I thank you very much,” she said hurriedly and not without showing her confusion, “but I will wait until Dr. Bennet comes. I am sure he will not be detained long. They should have some consideration for physicians.”

“Dr. Bennet? Oh, I see. He is in a hurry, too, to get to Chelton.” (If Cora could have seen the flash that shot through the lawyer’s brain at that moment.) “Well, of course, he ought to be allowed to go – although we all have to keep within the speed limit.”

“They are coming now,” said Cora joyously, for the interview was anything but pleasant. “I will tell Dr. Bennet of your kindness “

The man cranked up instantly, excusing his haste with a glance at his watch. “Well,” he said, “I have a noon appointment, so I may as well hurry on. Good morning, Miss Kimball. I suppose we shall see each other again in Chelton, as we both are interested, I believe, in the same affair – finding the promise book and finding the lost table.”

Then he was off.

Duncan, Tom and the two officers were up to the car before Cora had quite recovered herself.

“That was Reed, miss, wasn’t it?” asked Tom sharply.

“Yes,” replied Cora.

“Well, he’s a cool one,” went on Tom, while Duncan looked after the receding car. “Do you know him, if I may ask?”

“Yes, and no,” said Cora nervously, for the constable and justice were looking at her with some impertinence.

“I thought so. His usual game. He makes himself known. Now see here,” said Tom, in a manner that made Cora think of Paul – perhaps Tom loved machines as did Paul, and was more than an ordinary chauffeur – “that man is a keen lawyer, Dr. Bennet, and he has some purpose in delaying you.”

“Delaying me!” echoed Duncan.

“No,” interrupted Cora. “It is in me he seems to have the interest, for he asked me to ride back to Chelton with him. Oh, I know!” she exclaimed. “It is in Wren! He is the lawyer who has to do with Mrs. Salvey’s case, and he is trying to keep Dr. Bennet away from Chelton to-day. He must have heard that you were on the case,” declared Cora, as the whole strange proceeding seemed to flash before her excited mind.

“That’s bad!” groaned Duncan.

The officials were talking at one side of the road.

“Look here, squire,” called Tom, “this is all a putup game. You have no proof that we were going faster than the law allows. That sneak Reed simply told you so. Now own up, Hanna. Am I not right?”

“He sure said so,” grumbled Hanna.

“And you had only his word?” asked the old justice angrily.

“I saw the smoke from that car, and – “

“Well, I’m goin’ to let you go,” asserted the judge. “I don’t like this here kind of business, Hanna, and I want you after this to have all your charges first hand. Don’t take no tips from nobody, d’ye hear?”

Hanna smiled. He had his hand in his pocket, and it may as well be told that there was also in the pocket something which resigned him to letting the automobilists go. Reed had attended to the compensation.

“Just as you say, judge,” remarked the constable.

Duncan put his hand out to the old squire. “Here, squire,” he said. “I do this openly. I want you to take this, not as a bribe, but as a personal gift, which I have a perfect right to offer you. You are doing me a kindness, and also this young lady a kindness, and the one most concerned is a helpless little creature who waits until I reach Chelton to know whether or not she is to be made perfectly well, so to speak. Not that I am the one to say that, but because a noted specialist will wait for all the other doctors. It’s a long stony, but I will let you know how we make out if I beat that sharper into Chelton.”

Cora couldn’t speak. She, too, put out her hand to the old squire, who was wiping his eyes and shaking his head against Duncan’s gift. Finally the young doctor prevailed upon him, and then once more they started on their mad run for Chelton

CHAPTER XXVII

AGAINST THE LAW

Two hours later Cora almost fell into the arms of her brother – so overstrained were her nerves after the exciting ride.

“Oh, Jack,” she exclaimed, “I had the awfullest time! It is very well to be a girl and imitate boys in the matter of risking; but I say, Jack, it is always risky.”

“Well, I am glad you have found that out, little girl,” answered the brother, putting her comfortably down in the big armchair. “What’s the particular risk now? No more stolen girls?”

“Oh, that was your part,” she said, laughing. “And, by the way, I hear you are quite a successful kidnaper.”

“Not so bad. But you should have seen the time we had to get Wren to the sanitarium. She didn’t want to leave here, and had a mortal fear of a hospital. But how are you?” and he looked into her flushed face. “I declare it seems moons since I’ve seen you.”

“And all the other planets since I saw you, Jack. I wonder will I ever have the courage to tell you all about it?”

“Wouldn’t the courage just naturally come on my side? I would have to listen – “

“Oh, no. You don’t have to – “

“There you go! Home ten minutes and picking a fight – “

“Jack Kimball!”

“Cora Kimball!”

Then they both laughed. It was jolly even to play at quarreling, and be real brother and sister again.

“Well, I have so little time, Jack, I must be serious. You know we have to get back to Breakwater to-night. We are to fetch you, and Ed and Walter and Clip – “

“Oh, you don’t say! In a suit case or a la hamper? Ed is literally cut up about all the girls being out of town at once. He would fit in the shirt box, I fancy. But Wallie – he seems to have expanded. I doubt if you could manage him – “

“Oh, you ridiculous boy! Come on. Run after me while I get through the house. I must see dear old Margaret. How is she treating you?”

“First-rate, for Margaret. She only starved me out of the midnight rations twice – “

“You should not eat after ten, Jack. But come along. I must look over the place, and talk at the same time,” and with that intention Cora started on her tour of home inspection, while Jack made all the noise he possibly could make (which was not a little), running through the house after her.

Margaret, of course, knew what the tumult was about. She always declared that boys went to college to learn how to make unearthly noises.

Cora found little out of place. Margaret was an old and trusted servant, and, in the absence of her mistress, could always be depended upon to look after the “children.”

“And now I must go and get the folks together,” remarked Cora. “Can you come, Jack?”

“And help you pick up the humans? Well, guess I may as well, as I am to be in the collection. But what is it all about?”

In a girl’s way Cora told of the plans for the auto fete, and of Dr. Bennet wishing to have the Chelton boys meet his student friends.

“First rate!” responded Jack, when Cora paused for breath. “I rather fancy the idea of going after some of the girls. I cannot help but agree with Ed that all the girls should not leave town at once – you should take turns.”

“But how about Clip? The others imagine that she makes up for quite a number – with you and Walter.”

“There you go again, picking a fight,” and he laughed honestly. “Now, Cora, Clip is just Clip, no more and not one whit less, but she has been so busy – oh, so tremendously busy!” He was getting into his motor togs, and Cora was already equipped for her ride about Chelton. “Say, sis,” he added, “did I tell you I have my suspicions about the loss of Wren’s book? Did she describe to you the pair who last signed the contract?”

“No,” answered Cora, now fully interested.

“Well, she told me it was a fellow with bent shoulders, and a girl with red hair. Now, who does that fit?”

Cora thought for a moment. Then her face showed quicker than her words that she guessed who might answer those descriptions.

“Sid Wilcox and Ida Giles!” she exclaimed. “But what motive could they have?”

“Sid Wilcox and Rob Roland are termed the Heavenly Twins, they are so often together. Now, Rob Roland has been the paragraph and the period, so to speak, in this story,” said Jack meaningly.

“But why should Ida stoop to such a thing?”

“Didn’t you run over her dining-car one day early this summer?” Jack reminded her. “Or was it Bess? No matter just who, it was one of the motor girls. And, besides, you did not ask her to go on the run.”

“If I thought Ida Giles knew anything about that book I would go directly to her house and demand an explanation,” said Cora, flushing. “Ida is too apt to be influenced by Sid Wilcox. I thought she had seen enough of the consequences of such folly.”

“Oh, Ida is ambitious in that line,” replied the cool, deliberate Jack.

“Well, let us start,” suggested Cora. “I have quite some ground to cover. Dr. Bennet has agreed to find and fetch Clip.”

“Has, eh? Smart fellow, Doc Bennet! I tried all afternoon yesterday to locate the lithersome Clip. Took a coy little jaunt of two miles afoot – some one said she had a friend out Bentley way, but I did not locate her. Hope Doc has better luck.”

Jack said this in a way that opposed his words to their own meaning. He evidently meant he hoped Dr. Bennet would not have better luck.

“I am so anxious about the report on Wren,” commented Cora, as they finally started off in Jack’s runabout. “It will mean so much to her mother, and to her, of course.”

“Well, if Clip has had any influence, I should say Wren would turn out an artist’s model, physically. Clip has just about lived with the child since you went away. Of course, we had Miss Brown, and if she isn’t Brown by nature as well as by name. I wouldn’t say so. I never got one single smile to cut across her map.”

“Shall we look for Ed first?” and Cora could not control a most provoking flush that threatened her cheeks.

“Just as you say, lady. But I have not told you -let the last moment be the hardest. Ed has taken to the ram. He is training the ram. Can’t get him away from the ram. Mary’s little lamb is a `bucking bronco’ to it.”

“Oh, I have been wondering about that,” said Cora. “I thought I was to wear the ram’s fleece as a sort of real baby-lamb coat next winter.”

“Nothing of the sort, girl. Ed’s ramifications are the talk of the town. He is to give an exhibition at college when we get back. A clear case of the lamb and Mary’s school days.”

“Well, where shall we hope to find him?” and she glanced at her watch. “I must find some one soon.”

“Come along. I’ll hunt him up. He is likely at this very moment giving Minus his morning ablutions. He called the ram Minus because the animal takes away so much of his time. Joke, eh ?”

Jack directed his machine toward the same little creek that figured in my first story of the motor girls, when Ed rescued them from a sorry plight, the Whirlwind having run into a mudhole.

“Now, I’ll bet we find him by the brookside with Minus chewing daisies and, incidentally, Ed’s stray clothing,” declared Jack.

Along the way people appeared surprised to see Cora, and their greetings were a mixture of query and astonishment.

“There’s Ida!” suddenly exclaimed Jack. “Don’t let on you see her. I don’t want to stop here to talk to her.”

“Why?” asked Cora curiously.

“Because in about one minute you will see her trailer, the insufferable Sid, and I am not in Sid’s humor.

“I would like to speak with Ida,” objected Cora. “I really wanted to ask her something.”

“Save it,” commanded the ungovernable brother. “A thing like that gets better with time.”

So they passed along, Cora having to be content with a bow and a smile to Ida Giles, who returned both promptly.

“Jack,” said Cora, when they were also up to the hill behind which they hoped to find the idler by the brook, “do you know I think I have an actual clue to Wren’s table. An antique man out Breakwater way has an order for one. I am watching that order.”

“That’s easy. When you know that Reed has been in and out of the place for some days. That’s the best of being a girl. You can trace around after the most important clues and no one would ever suspect you of knowing what you are after. Now, I rather think when the fete is `pulled off,’ if I may use the term,” and he laughed his apology, “then there will be some doin’s. I just want to see rocky Rob rumpled.”

“Let us not delay talking long with Ed,” proposed Cora, “for I must be at Hazel’s at one – I am so anxious about Paul.”

“About Paul? Why, he’s all right. He’s out and has been to the office,” was the brother’s surprising answer. “Didn’t you hear about Mr. Robinson wanting to send him away for his health? Robinson has taken a great fancy to Paul. The stolen document business is also near a climax. I had a fine time trying to keep Clip’s name out of the paper, the day they had the hearing about Wren. You see, I – the great first person – ran into the courtroom just as the judge was dismissing the absurd case set up against Mrs. Salvey. Of course, that was nothing more or less than a trick to get information for the other side. Well, Mr. Robinson was hurrying to court and he has passed his running days creditably, I believe when he met me. I took up his run at a moment’s notice, reached the courtroom, waved my hands wildly in the air – “

“Oh, Jack!” interrupted Cora; “don’t be so absurd. You know I am just dying to hear what happened.”

“Then don’t die until you do hear,” and he slowed up at the hill. “The fact is, I just caught the whole City News force red-handed with a great story about Clip. The reporters had called her the modern Clara, and all that, but I got it away from them. I know one of the best of them, and he agreed, so they all had to. It was a good little story, for the lawyers were matched against a motor girl. That made it interesting from a newspaper viewpoint. Hello! Didn’t I tell you? Say, there, Mr. Foster! Chain up the ram, Ed. We want to approach.”

Just as they rounded the hill, Ed could plainly be seen as Jack had foretold – idling by the brook with the ram in the same picture, but at a polite distance from its owner.

“I thought Walter wanted the ram,” remarked Cora as they neared the spot where Ed was “getting himself together.”

“Oh, he did. But do you remember what the man said about having to put his overcoat on to feed that animal? Well, he wouldn’t even stand ,for Walter, with or without the ulster. He tried his best raincoat and all, but the ram just went for him. But look how he purrs around Ed – tame as a kitten.”

“I am not going to trust him, though,” decided Cora. “One experience with Mr. Minus is enough for me. Shout to Ed to come over. I must hurry.”

Cora’s invitation to go to Breakwater came almost as a shock, Ed declared, but coming from Cora he would accept. Consequently he hurried the ram to its quarters, and, agreeing to look up Walter, the girl was left to pay her visit to Hazel.

“We fellows will start from here about daybreak,” Jack decided, “and we will reach Breakwater about ten o’clock. That’s the time Doc Bennet gave me for the official gun to go off.”

It happened that Ed knew the young doctor slightly, so that he took Jack’s urgent “appeal” as coming from the actual host.

“I told you he would be glad to join the Motor Girls’ Club,” remarked Jack, while Ed was exchanging civilities with Cora. “He’s just been pining around here like a lost – “

“Now, Jack, be square,” interrupted the handsome young man, whom Cora thought had actually grown handsomer in the days since she had last seen him. “I never pine. I growl – just plain growl.”

“You take me over to Hazel’s, Jack?” asked Cora. “Then you may go along and help look for Walter. I must meet Dr. Bennet at two-thirty. And then, I wonder, will we be able to get back to Breakwater by six.”

She was thinking of her experience coming out to Chelton; also she kept on the lookout for Mr. Reed. He had hinted that there were interesting things developing in Chelton just then. He had said openly that his interest and Cora’s were mutual. Would he again molest her?

With this thought she determined not to get too far away from Jack. She would have him call at the Hastings’ house for her.

And the Roland, Reed & Company lawyers knew that Cora Kimball was a leader among the motor girls the club that had avowed its purpose of finding the book, as well as the table.

All this was complicated and involved, but to the shrewd lawyers, Cora knew the working out of the details was merely a matter of opportunity.

Having failed to prove Wren a subject for some “shut-in” institution, these same lawyers were now engaged on another scheme, that of trying to show that the child was detained against her will, and was actually in the possession of Cora Kimball.

Jack had told Cora all this, trying to make it a matter of small importance, and laughing at Rob Roland’s initial performance, as Jack put it; but Cora felt that it was no laughing matter, and that at least the happiness of two persons – Mrs. Salvey and her delicate little daughter – was involved.

Cora and Jack were on the road, and Jack had cranked up. Ed, having made the ram secure in the field, was about to walk to his own lodgings. Suddenly a flash of red swept across the streak of brown highway. Cora recognized it instantly as Dr. Bennet’s car.

He was coming at such a pace that in drawing up the gears and brakes of his machine protested with unpleasant, grinding sounds.

Dr. Bennet seemed flushed and excited. He began, without any preliminaries, to tell Cora that she must get into his car, and hurry back to Breakwater.

“I have been on the wildest hunt,” he said, smiling an acknowledgment to Cora’s introduction to Ed, and bowing to Jack, whom he had met earlier in the day. “I have been all over Chelton, but of course did not expect to locate you out here.”

Duncan Bennet possessed that manner which is at once persuasive and at the same time courteous combination of the doctor and the man.

“You see,” he continued, “I happened to overhear that you are to be subpoenaed in that Robinson patent case. In fact, I heard Reed say he would have you in an hour, so I determined to beat him back home – get you over the State line before he can serve the papers. Now, you had best jump right in. Clip is waiting for us at Wiltons’. We will pick her up and then fly.”

“Oh!” gasped Cora, seizing at Jack’s arm. “I am not going to run away. I will stay right at home – with my brother.” Cora was as near crying as any young lady with the reputation of strength of character might safely venture. But Jack knew more of the case than he had confided to her, and he instantly agreed with Dr. Bennet.

“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.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

CONFIDENCES

“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 mean Constable 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, interrupted Tom. “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 at Cora. “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.”