School had closed, and the long and glorious vacation had been ushered
in. The Corner House girls had now lived in Milton for two years, and
felt very much at home.
They knew many people--Agnes said: "A whole raft of people," but Ruth did
not approve of such language and accused her fly-away sister of learning
it from Neale O'Neil.
"Poor Neale! Must he be blamed for all my sins?" asked Agnes, with a wry
smile. She was mending a tear in a very good skirt--and she did not like
to sew.
"Oh, I will not accuse him of being the cause of _that_, Aggie," said
Ruth, pointing to the tear.
"You're wrong," retorted her sister with a sudden elfish smile. "If he
had not chased me, to get those cherries I stole from him, I wouldn't
have caught my skirt on the nail and 'tored' it, as Dot would say."
"Tomboy!" declared Ruth, rather scornfully.
"I don't care," Agnes said, biting off her thread. "I hope I'll never be
starched and stiff."
"But you are getting older," went on Ruth.
"Not too decrepit to run yet," retorted Agnes, pertly.
Ruth laughed at that, and pinched her sister's rosy cheek.
"Nevertheless," she said, "that is one of the skirts you will be obliged
to wear on our tour."
"Oh! Our tour!" cried Agnes, ecstatically, clasping her hands. "Ouch!"
"What is the matter?" demanded Ruth, startled by her sister's squeal.
"Stuck my finger with this horrid needle," mumbled Agnes, sucking the
pricked digit.
She went back to her sewing as Ruth went out of the room. In came Neale
in cap, goggles, and leggings.
"Oh, Neale! Have you got the car out?"
"Why, Aggie!" cried the boy, without replying to her question, and
eyeing the work in her lap askance. "I am surprised! You're just like
Satan--as we had it in our lesson last Sunday--aren't you?"
"Well! I like your impudence. In what way, please?" demanded Agnes.
"Why, you're sewing tears, aren't you?" chuckled Neale. "And the Bible
says the Evil One 'sowed tares.'"
"Oh, don't! It's too great a shock. But, are you going out with the
car?"
"Been out," said the boy. "I took Mr. Howbridge over to Brenton Woods to
catch the train for the West on the Q. V. We won't see him again until
we're back from our tour."
"Oh, yes! Our tour!" repeated Agnes; but this time she did not clasp her
hands in ecstasy. She looked at her pricked finger ruefully instead.
"And coming back," went on Neale, "I happened to run across Mr.
Maynard."
"Oh, yes!" cried Agnes again, but in an entirely different tone.
"He'd been fishing. You see, he doesn't have much to do now that he's
out of the surveyor's office. That's why he--he gets into trouble so
much, I suppose. That and worrying about the death of his wife and baby.
I brought him home in the car."
"Did you ask him about that Joe fellow?"
"Saleratus Joe?"
"Yes. If that's what you are bound to call him," Agnes said.
"I did. Mr. Maynard doesn't know the fellow personally. He didn't seem
to remember much about that day he met Dot. He remembers her, though,"
Neale said, thoughtfully. "Asked about her in a shamefaced sort of way."
"I should think he would be ashamed."
"He is to be pitied," said the boy, soberly.
"Oh, yes. I suppose so. All such men are. But for little Dot to get
mixed up with a drunken man----"
"It didn't hurt her," said Neale, stoutly. "And maybe it has helped
him."
Agnes took a minute to digest this; and she made no further comment. But
she asked:
"How about that Joe? Doesn't Mr. Maynard know anything about him?"
"He says not. Suppose we tell Mrs. Heard, and she'll tell Mr. Collinger.
Joe Dawson has sometimes worked for Jim Brady, the big politician. Mr.
Collinger must know if Brady is one of the men who have been trying to
get those maps and the papers away from him."
"Well," said Agnes, "I hope we can help bring those auto thieves to
book."
"Guess Mr. Collinger is more worried about his maps--if they got them."
"Oh, Neale! suppose they should steal our car? Wouldn't it be dreadful?
We must catch them."
Neale laughed. "You're going to be a regular detective when you grow up,
Aggie. I can see that," he said.
"Put up the hammer, little boy," advised Agnes. "Do you know that it has
been decided when we are to start on our tour?"
"No. When?"
"Mrs. Heard telephoned that she will be ready to-morrow. We shall start
some time the following day, so Ruthie just said."
"Good!" declared the boy. "Say, Aggie! we're bound to have a dandy
time."
"Even if we weren't, I should be glad to get away from this place," said
the girl, suddenly a little cross.
"Why?" asked Neale O'Neil, in surprise.
"Because of that pest, Sammy Pinkney."
"What about him?"
"He is fairly hounding us to death," said Agnes, with a sigh.
"What about?"
"He has begged to go with us every hour--almost--since he first heard we
were going on a long trip in our auto." Then she suddenly giggled. "Oh,
Neale! He has decided that it would be more fun to be an auto pirate
than a salt water buccaneer of the old school."
"One great kid that," chuckled Neale, appreciatively.
"But he is an awful nuisance. He bothers the little girls whenever they
go out of the house. He's told his mother he's going with us--and I
suppose Mrs. Pinkney half believes we have invited him."
"Cricky!" chuckled Neale again. "I imagine she'd be glad to get rid of
him for a few weeks."
"My, goodness, me!" exclaimed the startled Agnes. "She sha'n't get rid
of him at _our_ expense--no, sir! I won't hear of it. Neither will Ruth.
And, besides, there isn't going to be breathing space in that car after
we all pile in--with Tom Jonah and the baggage, too."
"I have an idea!" said Neale, wickedly, "that we ought to have an auto
truck trailing us with all the furbelows and what-nots you girls will
think it necessary to carry."
"Mr. Smarty!" Agnes scoffed. "Remember we went camping last summer and
we know something about what to take with us and what not to take."
"That's all right," said Neale. "But the Corner House girls are not
going to live under canvas this time--that is, not much. At the fancy
hotels you'll all want to cut a dash. How are you going to do it?"
Agnes laughed at him. "Don't you suppose all that has been thought of?"
she demanded. "Mrs. Heard will send a trunk, and so shall we, by express
to the Polo House at Granthan. That is going to be our first 'fancy'
hotel, as you call them. Then, when we leave there, the trunks will be
shipped on to our next fashionable roosting place. But, oh, dear me! I
don't care much about the hotels. I want to be moving," declared this
very modern young American girl.
"Cricky!" grumbled Neale. "I bet if you have your way we'll get pinched
for speeding in every county in the state."
Every waking hour thereafter, until, on the second day, the car was
brought to the side gate of the Corner House premises, was a busy hour
for the four Kenways and Neale O'Neil. Mrs. Heard came over with her
personal baggage, for the route the party was to follow would not take
them anywhere near her home. Besides, it was better to pack the car
carefully before the start was made, and thus find out where every piece
of baggage--as well as every passenger--was to be placed.
The car was roomy and comfortable; but bags and suitcases of all
descriptions--to say nothing of an excited Newfoundland dog--were bound to
occupy much space.
Neale declared he had groomed the car "to the nines"--and it looked it.
It was new enough, in any case, for everything about it to shine and
glisten. A good mechanician from the public garage had been over it the
day before and pronounced every part in perfect working order.
"But that doesn't mean that we can't get a blow-out before going a
mile," growled Neale, who had worked so hard that he was rather
pessimistic. "But, come on, girls, bring out the rest of the household
furniture. You seem to have half the contents of the Corner House packed
in already."
Ruth calmly ignored this, and went about final arrangements in her usual
capable manner. Nothing would be forgotten, nothing overlooked when Ruth
Kenway was in charge.
The little girls were just as busy in their way as their sisters. Tess
and Dot were too much excited and far too much taken up with their own
affairs, to pay any attention to Sammy Pinkney.
But that hopeful youngster stuck to Ruth and Agnes like a burr--and a
very annoying one.
"Aw, say! let a feller go!" was his mildest way of pleading for space in
the automobile for his own small self. "I won't get in your way."
"No," said Ruth, with the same decision she had expressed from the
first. "No."
"Aw, Aggie! _you know me!_ If _you_ say I can, I can."
"You're the biggest bother in the world, Sammy Pinkney!" declared the
second oldest Corner House girl.
"Won't bother you a mite. I'll help. I'll run errands----"
"What errands, I'd like to know?" scoffed Agnes.
"Well--you'll want somebody to run 'em when the car breaks down----"
That settled it! Agnes would not listen to him any further.
"Say! I'll give Dot my bicycle if you'll let me go," he urged on Ruth.
"I'd be afraid to have her ride it," laughed Ruth. "The only thing you
ever did give the little girls, Sammy--that goat--has been a dreadful
annoyance."
"Give us your bulldog, Sammy?" suggested Agnes, knowing that the very
soul of the boy was knit to that ugly, bandy-legged beast.
"Ow!" groaned Sammy. He could not agree to that. "I tell you I'll do
anything you want me to----"
"Stay at home, then, and don't bother us," said Ruth, somewhat tartly
for her.
"Aw, _do_ say I can go, Aggie," he pleaded for the last time with the
other sister.
"I'd like to see you find room aboard that car!" cried Agnes, having
finally packed the last bag and parcel in the tonneau.
At these words Sammy shot away like a rabbit and disappeared. Mrs. Heard
and the little girls came out. Everybody else from the Corner House
appeared to bid the party good-bye--even Aunt Sarah.
"It'll rain before you get far," prophesied this last person, grimly,
"and you'll have to come back."
She would not admit that an automobile was fit to travel in during wet
weather.
"What _have_ you got in that basket?" demanded Agnes of Tess, suddenly
pouncing upon the serious little girl.
"Oh, Aggie! Only two of Sandyface's grandchildren. You know, we haven't
found names for them yet."
"Two kittens!" gasped Agnes. "What do you know about that, Ruth?"
"How about Billy Bumps, too?" said Neale, looking perfectly sober.
"Oh, he and Tom Jonah would fight," said Dot, proudly bearing her
renovated Alice-doll in a brand new coat and hat. The Alice-doll really
was a pleasure to look upon once more. Only, whereas her hair had
originally been dark, now it was very blonde indeed, to match her pink
cheeks and blue eyes.
"Of course, it isn't very respectaful," admitted the smallest Corner
House girl, in speaking of the change in Alice's appearance. "But ladies
_do_ bleach their hair and make it blond; and Alice always _did love_ to
be fashionable."
Meanwhile Tess had been convinced by Ruth that an automobile tour was no
place for two kittens. Tom Jonah was being taken along as a means of
safety for the car. Agnes was quite sure herself that automobile thieves
were only waiting their chance to steal this brand new motor car.
They all got into the car at last--Mrs. Heard, Ruth and the two smaller
girls in the tonneau, heaped about with baggage, but comfortable. Tom
Jonah crouched under Agnes' feet in front, where she sat beside Neale,
his head sticking out of the car and his tongue displayed like a pink
woolen necktie.
Everybody shouted "good-bye!" There were plenty of neighbors to call
after the touring party. And those on the street, for the first few
blocks, seemed to be greatly amazed and amused by the passage of the
Corner House automobile.
"Goodness!" ejaculated Agnes, in some disgust, and trying to sit up
primly, "what do you suppose is the matter with folks, anyway? One would
think we were a circus parade."
"Humph! guess we do look funny," chuckled Neale. "I once saw a picture
supposed to represent the good ship _Mayflower_ as she must have
appeared off Plymouth Rock, if all the antique furniture you hear about
really was brought over by the Pilgrims, as people claim. They had to
hang chairs and tables and highboys and lowboys and such things from her
spars, besides having an awful deckload. And I reckon we look like a
large family on moving day," finished the boy, with an expansive grin.
"We do _not!_" exclaimed Agnes, quite put out. "Look at that old
gentleman stare. What's he saying--and shaking his cane, too?"
"Got me," returned her comrade on the front seat.
He increased the car's speed and they passed people too quickly for the
latter to make themselves heard--if what some of them shouted was of
importance. The passing of the Corner House motor car seemed to interest
and please the urchins along the way more than anybody else.
"Goodness!" murmured Mrs. Heard, "I never was so much stared at before,
I do believe. What do you suppose is the matter with us?"
"They must all want to ride with us," said Tess, quite composedly.
"Well, they just can't!" cried Dot. "See that boy running and yelling,
will you? Why, he can't catch up."
Once out of the city Neale (of course urgently pressed by Agnes) "let
her out another notch," as he expressed it. The car ran as smoothly as
though the road was macadamized--although few highways about Milton were
so well made as that. But Neale was a careful and skillful driver
already, and the springs of the car were excellent.
On and on the handsome car rushed, leaving little spirals of dust behind
it, and sending the small fry of rural animal life scurrying out of its
path. The peculiar interest shown by pedestrians as they passed through
the town, was continued out in the country.
As Neale slowed down for a railroad crossing, taking it easily and
carefully, although there was no train near and the gates were up, a boy
yelled:
"Hi, there! Whip behind! Whip behind, mister!"
"Now! how foolish that is," gasped Agnes, as they jolted a little going
over the rails. "What do you suppose that little imp meant?"
Neale only grunted. He was thinking, and although he increased the speed
of the car a little, it was only for a short distance. Then he shut her
down suddenly--and stopped.
"What's the matter?" demanded Agnes, curiously.
"Where are you going, Neale?" asked Ruth, as the boy crept out from
behind the wheel, stepped over Agnes' feet and the dog, and leaped out
into the road.
"I want to see something," muttered Neale. He went to the rear of the
car. Then he uttered a shout:
"Come and look at this, will you? What do you suppose that kid has
done?"
"What kid?" asked Agnes, following him nimbly out of the car. Tom Jonah
bounded out, too, glad, probably, to stretch his cramped limbs.
"Sammy Pinkney!" said Neale, pushing back his dust mask and staring.
Ruth stood up to see over the folded-back top of the car. "What is it?"
she demanded, unable to see anything.
But Agnes arrived beside Neale, and saw perfectly. "Well! I never!" she
ejaculated. "Sammy Pinkney! how _dared_ you? What are you doing here?"
For Sammy was roosting, more or less comfortably, on the back of the
car, and had a bright, new russet leather suitcase tied on beside him
with a bit of rope. He presented a grinning, dusty, befreckled face to
Neale and the Corner House girl.