AN INTERESTING DETOUR
"Didn't I tell you?" Artie insisted. "It is an automobile house, isn't
it?"
"Certainly it isn't," retorted Fred, in his most crushing manner. "I
should think you would know a barn when you see one."
Artie stared. Truth to tell, the building did look more like a barn
than a house. But what was a barn doing in the middle of the road?
"Can't hope to drive that anywhere," Mr. Larue called. "Wonder what we
do next?"
"Detour," Mr. Williamson said briefly, and the three mothers groaned.
"There won't be anything in the house to eat, you know," Mrs. Marley
announced. "We can't get supplies and cook dinner if we get there so
late."
"We'll go to the hotel," promised Mr. Marley. "It will be our one
chance to be fashionable, so we ought to make the most of it."
"Oh, Mother, let's go to a hotel!" Margy begged. "I love to eat in a
big dining-room."
The boys sniffed and Mrs. Williamson laughed.
"We'll look out of place in these traveling clothes," she said, "but
I suppose it is the only thing to do; we certainly won't make Sunrise
Beach before seven o'clock or half-past now."
"You sound like Carrie Pepper when you talk like that," Fred told his
sister as the cars were backed.
"What is the barn there for?" asked Artie.
"She doesn't sound like Carrie Pepper. Mattie Helms talks that way,"
Ward declared.
"Stop squabbling about Margy and her talk, or you can't have any pink
ice cream for your dinner," Mr. Williamson warned them. "The barn is in
the middle of the road, Artie, because it is being moved."
Artie then wanted to know why the barn was being moved and where it had
come from and where it was going.
"Perhaps they sold the farm and the owner didn't like the location of
the barn," Mr. Williamson explained. He was always ready to answer
questions. "I suspect that is what happened, Artie, because I noticed
that the old foundations, from which the barn had been lifted, were
almost squarely in front of the farmhouse. You wouldn't want to sit on
your front porch and have the view blocked by a barn, would you? I
think they are moving it across the road, and then it will be farther
from the house and nearer to the hayfields, two points in its favor."
They were going back over the road now and, following Mr. Larue's car,
made a sharp turn.
"We can cut off five miles if we go through the Mooney estate," said
Mr. Larue, who had been consulting a road map, when they were up with
him.
"But that is private, isn't it?" Mrs. Williamson asked.
"I think it is open to the public on certain days of the week," her
husband replied. "And doubtless they will not object to a couple of
cars, if we don't speed. There's the main entrance. Let's drive in, and
if we see any one we'll ask permission to go through."
Just ahead of them was an elaborate entrance, built of gray stone and
fitted with tall spiked iron gates. These were open, and, as Mr. Larue
said, that might be an indication that the public was allowed to enter.
"Who lives here?" asked Margy, almost in a whisper, as they rolled
between the stone posts and found themselves in a beautiful park.
"Captain Hal Mooney," Mr. Williamson answered.
"Is he in the army?" Fred inquired, while Ward said he was sure he ran
an ocean liner.
"Ward is nearer right than you are, Fred," said Mr. Williamson, with
a smile. "Captain Mooney is interested in boats, though not in ocean
liners. He is immensely wealthy and builds and sails racing yachts."
"Just look at the flowers!" Polly cried. "Did you ever see anything
like them! And the grass--I wonder who runs the lawn mower?"
There were great beds and borders of flowers on either side of the
road, beautiful trees, planted singly and in groups, and acres and
acres of the richest and smoothest green lawns that the children had
ever seen.
"Hello, you'll have a chance to see the lawn mower, Polly," said Mr.
Williamson suddenly. "And we'll ask this man whether Captain Mooney
allows trespassing."
Polly glanced over to one side and saw a tractor pulling a lawn mower
as easily as her daddy pushed their lawn mower at home. So that was how
these lawns were kept so evenly clipped and trimmed!
There was one man running the tractor and another stood on a gravel
path, watching him. He turned at the sound of the cars and looked
inquiringly at the driver. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in golf
clothes, and had a pleasant face and a white mustache that made his
dark eyes very noticeable.
"I hope we're not trespassing," said Mr. Larue courteously. "But we are
anxious to reach Sunrise Beach and were forced to make a detour because
they are moving a barn across the road and the way is blocked. Do you
know whether Captain Mooney objects to travel over his roads--the gates
were open--or not?"
The man smiled a little and lifted his hat to show the white hair
beneath.
"I am sure Captain Mooney will have no objections," he said heartily.
"The roads are only closed to motorists who abuse their privileges."
The children were staring in fascination at the lawn mower, and so
absorbed were they that the clang of a clear little bell made them all
jump. A girl about Polly's age came wheeling up the gravel path and
jumped from her bicycle.
"Daddy, I thought we were going to the beach!" she exclaimed. "Oh!" she
said, suddenly noticing the two cars.
"Ella, all these young people are going to Sunrise Beach," said the
white-haired man, smiling. "You'd like to have some brothers and
sisters like that to play with, wouldn't you?"
The little girl smiled and Polly saw how pretty she was. Her bobbed
hair was yellow, but her eyes were dark like her father's, and she was
tanned as though she had spent much time near the water. Her teeth were
very even and very white.
"I haven't any one to play with," she mourned. "Are you all brothers
and sisters?"
It was slightly confusing to introduce so many at once, but Mr.
Williamson managed it, and then the little girl's father put his arm
around her and said something that surprised them all.
"I am Captain Mooney," he said simply, "and this is my daughter, Ella.
And I hope we may see you this summer, for we drive to Sunrise Beach
almost daily."
The mothers were anxious to reach the shore and get settled before it
should be dark, so with a few more words, chiefly between Ella and the
children, the two cars went on. They wound in and out, over a perfectly
kept road and between handsome shrubbery, and soon came to the road
that would take them straight to the beach.
"Hasn't Ella Mooney any brothers or sisters?" Jess asked, as soon as
they had left the father and daughter.
"No. And her mother is dead," said Mr. Williamson soberly. "So, in
spite of all her money, she is a lonely little girl."
"I suppose she has a pony," Artie mused.
"And all the dresses she wants." This from Margy.
"And she can go traveling and see California," said Polly.
"I wouldn't mind running that tractor," Fred declared.
"But I wouldn't want to live all alone and have no one to play with,"
objected Jess.
"She isn't all alone--she lives with her father," Ward declared.
"Well, fathers are all right, but you need a mother and some other
people, too," Jess informed him, and Mr. Williamson laughed and said
she was right.
"If she comes down to the beach and we see her, she can come to a
meeting of the Riddle Club, can't she, Polly?" Margy suggested.
Polly said of course, and just then Artie caught a glimpse of the ocean
and Ward saw a man in a bathing suit and every one was suddenly aware
that they had reached the seashore at last.
"Where's our house?" said Margy, staring at the rows of houses on
either side of the street as though she expected to recognize the house
they were to occupy.
"It's at the other end of town, Margy," her father said. "This is the
comparatively new section--pretty new houses and bungalows. There's
the hotel--we'll come back there for dinner. Well, children, there's
the ocean--are you glad to see it?"
They had turned down another street and were now facing the great blue
ocean that lay smoothly before them. It was as smooth as the Rocio
River, except for the breakers that broke and ran up the beach and back
again.
The children had seen the ocean, for they had gone on excursions
several times from River Bend. This was the first summer they were to
stay for any length of time near salt water, and they looked forward to
many good times.
"Is this the unfashionable part of Sunrise Beach?" asked Margy, a
little uncertainly.
"It is," her father laughed. "So I have been informed. The houses are
larger and more comfortable, they have yards of their own, and the
bathhouses are built under the porch for comfort and convenience. Would
you rather be comfortable or fashionable, Margy?"
"Comfortable, I guess," said Margy sensibly.
Mr. Larue and Mr. Williamson had hired the cottage and had wired ahead
to have it opened and aired. It was a brown house, large and rambling
and set in a garden that had been planted with many old-fashioned
flowers and then left to itself. The effect was pretty, but so tangled
that the paths around the house were quite over-grown. There was a
porch around three sides, a fireplace in the hall, which was also the
living-room and every room had an "ocean view." As Mr. Williamson said,
what more could any one want?
They found the trunks had been delivered and were in the hall. But
every one was too tired and too hungry to think of "dressing up."
"Let us go and get our dinners and come back and go to bed early,"
Mrs. Larue suggested. "Then we'll be up early to-morrow morning and
accomplish wonders."
"All I wish is that Carrie Pepper could see me now," whispered Margy, a
half hour later as she walked into the dining room of the large hotel.
"There's Mattie Helms!" Artie announced, in a tone that he fondly
imagined was very low, but which made Mattie--across the room--look up
in surprise.