THE RUNAWAYS
Treasure and Zee were in the garage, studying history in the roomy back
seat of the red car.
"Father is very pettish about some things," said Zee, suddenly banging
the covers of the history together. "Why in the world does he always
say we are too young to drive? He taught Doris, and she grips the wheel
like mad--a very unprofessional thing to do, everybody says so. And he
taught Rosalie, and she goes tearing along, smiling here and nodding
there, and nearly runs over dogs and wagons and-- But he says we are too
young, though you are very cautious, and I am smart for my age. I know
perfectly well how she goes."
They dropped their books on the floor and clambered over into the front
seat, Zee at the wheel.
"First you turn this little business, and then you put this sparker
thing here, and bang down with your heel on that, and push out with
your left foot, and pull this thing back into low, and give it the gas,
and away you go, tralalalala."
"That is right," said Treasure. "You do know, sure enough. I have
watched them hundreds of times."
"So have I," said Zee in a discontented voice. "But that's all the
good it does. They won't let us, though we know how, perfectly well.
Treasure, don't you think maybe father would let us drive if we could
prove to him that we know how? He says we are too young to learn, but
if we show him we have learned already he certainly wouldn't have much
argument left."
"Father is rather particular."
"But think how useful it would be if we knew how--then if anybody
should get sick, or die in a hurry, we could rush after father in the
car, and--I am sure he would not object, if we could just show him.
Let's practise by ourselves a little, and then he won't say a word.
Think how surprised he will be."
"Maybe you could not stop it."
"Why, you just turn the key, that's all. It is perfectly simple. A
child could do it. Look out and see if there is any one around, will
you? I know I can do it."
[Illustration: "Why, you just turn the key, that's all"]
Treasure dutifully looked, and no one was in sight.
"How surprised they will be. Won't we have the laugh on them when we
come driving up to the door?"
So Treasure opened the door of the garage and got in beside her sister
again. Zee sat up very straight, and pursed her lips together.
"First, turn the key."
"Yes."
Zee turned the key.
"Now put the sparker business down in the middle."
"Yes."
Zee put it down.
"Step on the starter."
"Yes."
Zee stepped on it.
This produced a low aimless whirr, quite powerless.
"Pull up that little flooder thing," said Treasure. "Father always does
that."
Zee pulled it to the tiptop, and banged her heel on the starter again.
This time the enticing tug told her the engine had caught, and was
ready for action.
"Push with the left foot and put her in low," said Zee, between her
teeth.
She found it took quite a vicious pull on the gears to "put her in
low." And the instant it clicked into place, the car shot forward out
of the garage with a violent pull that dashed them against the seat
and took their breath away. And there was a tearing and crashing of
wood--the garage door was none too wide--
"Father's fault," shouted Zee, pulling on the wheel for dear life.
"Just splintered a little."
"Slow up," cried Treasure.
The car was in the main road now, swerving over the corner to the
right, which fortunately was a low grassy bank with no curbing. Zee,
rocking dizzily in her seat, moved the wheel from side to side at such
a furious pace that she kept the car almost inside the road, and clear
of the ditches on either side.
"Go slow," begged Treasure.
"I can't," cried Zee. "She must be leaking."
After two blocks of riotously dangerous riding, Zee remembered that
if she shoved with her left foot it did something to stop it--and she
shoved, and the engine lifted, and the car slowed down.
She turned a white anxious face toward Treasure.
"That was some speed," she gasped.
"Watch the road, Zee. You had the gas thing in the middle instead of
the sparker thing--"
"Oh, sure enough, wasn't that silly?" Zee put the hand feeder in its
proper place and prepared to start again.
"I know how to drive this car--I know how, and I will do it," she said
between her teeth.
She put it into low again, and started once more, very slowly.
"Put it into second now," suggested Treasure.
Zee shoved the gear shift grimly forward--into reverse--and there was
a grinding of wheels and a curious sound of stripping gears that would
have broken the heart of an older driver.
Zee discovered her mistake, and remedied it quickly, pulling the gear
into low once more, ready for a fresh start.
"Oh, Zee, let me drive," begged Treasure. "I am sure I can do it."
By rare good fortune, Zee succeeded in getting it into second gear, and
finally, with a tearing racket, into high, and leaned back in her seat.
"This is something like, now," she panted, releasing her scarlet lip
from between her teeth.
"The fender is all bent," mourned Treasure.
"Oh, father'll fix it. See how well we're going now."
Treasure said nothing. They were not yet home, and there was a wagon
coming toward them.
Zee swung the car to the right to pass the wagon--too far--she was
fairly in the ditch at the side--with a wild turn of the wheel they
bumped into the road again, the fender banging the back wheel of the
wagon.
"Hay, you blithering--" shouted the man angrily, and then, seeing their
predicament, he pulled off to the side of the road and turned about in
his seat staring after them.
Zee, panic-stricken at the collision, lost her wits completely, and
couldn't remember how to stop it--but kept jamming desperately on the
gas feeder, harder and harder, swinging along the road, swaying from
side to side, while Treasure, with one long cry of agony slid into the
bottom of the car and clasped her hands over her ears.
The car dashed madly on, and between bursts Zee pulled everything
in sight and pushed everything she could find--but that car was a
demon--it went over hills and through ditches like a thing possessed.
It swung around wagons, and ran down a flock of chickens, and--oh,
kindly Providence, which watches over straying preacher bodies--of
its own free will, though guided, of course, by a friendly
predestination--the car went slower, and slower, with a funny choking
powerless sound quite unlike its natural brisk chug, and presently
Zee's scattered wits returned to her. She turned the key, and the car
stopped.
Treasure, sobbing pitifully, untangled herself from the gears, and
stumbled out of the car.
"I--drove--it," quivered Zee, and she opened the door and stepped
out--falling limply on the ground.
Treasure, forgetting her own plight, ran to Zee's assistance.
"Nothing at all's the matter," stammered Zee, smiling pluckily. "Just
wobbly, that's all--can't stand on myself."
So Treasure sat down beside her in the road, and they had a
heart-restoring cry in each other's tender arms, the dust of the road
mingling with their bitter tears and leaving tell-tale tracks upon
their sorry faces. Zee recovered first.
"Crazy old thing," she said with a vicious little kick at the bent
fender. "I always said Doris should have chosen the cow."
"What shall we do now?" asked Treasure helplessly.
"I am going to sit right here until father comes and finds us. Oh,
Treasure, you'd better drive it off to the side of the road--and--"
"Who--me? Not on your life. I won't touch it. It is bewitched."
"Somebody will run into it then. Let's push it."
Treasure had serious objections even to that form of locomotion, for
she felt in her inmost soul that the only way to keep that red demon
stopped was never to give it a start. But as Zee was insistent, she
finally consented to get behind and give a grudging push. Due, however,
to the fact that it was still in gear, and the brakes were set, they
could not budge it. So they went off to the side of the road where it
could not fall on them if anybody did run into it and waited.
After a time a car came along, passed by, slowed up and stopped. The
driver leaned over the door of his car and asked pleasantly:
"Are you in trouble, girls? Can I help you?"
"Oh, no, thank you, we are waiting for father," said Zee primly.
The driver regarded them curiously. "Don't you think you'd better pull
off to the side of the road a little? Pretty narrow passing there."
The girls looked at the road in surprise. "Why, so it is. Isn't that
too bad?"
"Can you drive off to the side?"
"No, indeed, father does not allow us to drive."
"I'll give you a push," he said very obligingly, and came at once to
their assistance. He frowned a little when he saw the car in gear, and
the brakes set, but he released them without comment, and the girls
helping bravely, the disgraced red car was moved out of the main road.
"Shall I tow you back to town?"
The girls winced visibly. Be towed home in disgrace--rather would they
sit there and freeze and starve and die of hunger and thirst forever.
"Oh, no, thank you. We'll just wait for father."
"Where is your father?"
"He isn't here just now," said Zee faintly.
So the man drove slowly away, looking back now and then. The girls,
in spite of the dust, did not sit in the car. They would not trust
themselves alone in that car under any circumstances. Instead they went
soberly up the bank and sat down again, side by side. Once in a while
Zee wiped her pale brow wearily.
"Such a life," she muttered once.
"Here comes something now," said Treasure, looking hopefully down the
road toward town. "Maybe it is father."
"Horseback rider."
"I hope he does not offer to tow us home."
"If he does, I shall tell him to mind his own business."
As the rider drew near, the girls leaned forward and studied his
features.
"He will laugh at us," said Treasure sadly. "That is worse than
offering to tow us home. It is that horribly sarcastic Curious Cat that
kept the Crab from arresting us when we trespassed on his ugly old
ditch."
Zee flipped over on the ground and buried her face in her hands. "I
will not look at him. Tell him I am dead, tell him-- Tell him anything,
but I can not let that hateful old thing look at me and grin."
"Zee," begged Treasure, "sit up and be decent. I can't talk to him. Sit
up, and help me."
Zee was obdurate. So Treasure, determined not to face the Curious Cat
without support, turned her back to the road and gazed off over the
landscape.
The rider drew up beside the car, and stopped his horse. He looked
intently at the two girls, who saw him not--except from the very
tip tails of their eyes. Then he examined the car, whistling
cheerfully--and his whistle was more aggravating than his laughter, if
such a thing could be. He got off his horse presently and slipped the
bridle over a fence post. Then he carefully inspected the bent fenders,
and looked at the engine. And then--wasn't he the most infuriating
thing you ever saw in your life?--from the pocket of his riding coat
he pulled a package of milk chocolate, and sauntered over to the bank
where the girls still sat, oblivious of his presence. He flung himself
on the ground near them and began nibbling the chocolate.
Treasure's lips trembled with the shame of it. Zee twisted the toes
of her shoes into the ground in impotent fury. The Curious Cat ate
deliberately, soulfully, complacently, and tossed his hat to the
ground, laying his head comfortably on his arm, his face toward the
girls.
And to add to the insult of his presence he began humming that idiotic
little ditty about "two babes in the woods" in a soft sentimental tone.
Zee stood it as long as she could. Then she sat up, seeming to blink
the sleep from her bright eyes.
"Why, Treasure-- Why, I _did_ go to sleep, didn't I?" Then she saw him,
apparently for the first time. "Why, how do you do?" she said brightly.
"Where did you come from? I drove and drove until I was so tired--I
couldn't stand it, and so we stopped to rest."
She held out a cordial hand, and he took it gravely. Then Treasure
turned upon them, and said, "Why, you here? I was--enjoying
that--beautiful view."
"Yes, I noticed that you were wrapped up in it. Had you a pleasant
ride?"
"Oh, lovely. But I am not used to driving, and I got so tired. I don't
believe I can ever get the thing home."
"Maybe your sister can--"
"Oh, Treasure will not drive. She is afraid of motors."
"Maybe I can take you home."
"Oh, we want to walk. We are so stiff from riding. But won't you please
take the car in--we feel like walking ourselves--it will do us good."
He looked at them keenly. "Do you want some chocolate?"
The girls accepted it gratefully.
"Suppose we go on to the Haunted House, and let the old grouch give us
some tea? I feel rather weak. Don't you?" he suggested finally.
"Very," they said with sincerity.
"But father will find out--I mean--they will worry about us. We have
been gone--quite a while," protested Treasure.
"He will not worry. He knows nobody would hurt nice little preacher
girls like you. I am willing--more than willing--to take the car home,
but I've got to find a place to leave my horse, and I've got to have
some tea. Is it a bargain or not? You come with me for tea, I take you
home--and I will try to sneak you in the back way so your father will
not catch you. But no tea, no sneak."
Zee stood up. "Treasure, you may sit here and be ministerial if you
like. I want some tea."
"That is something like. Now, you drive the car down the road to the
rustic gate, and--"
"Who, me? I am tired of driving. I guess I won't go after all."
"Well, then you girls must sit in the back seat and lead the horse. I
shall drive slowly."
"I feel more like walking. I do not want to ride."
"It is a mile and a half, and you've got to get home some time. Don't
be silly. I know how to handle a car."
So in quivering fear the girls stepped in and he gave Zee the bridle.
Then he started the car--the treacherous, ungrateful thing!--it went
off as smoothly and gently as a perfect lady. How tenderly Zee thought
at that moment of the Jersey they did not choose. Down the road they
went very slowly, then up a long winding trail among the trees by the
creek to the Haunted House, an old-fashioned rambling building with
vines and flowers running riot in every direction.
"Maybe he will not like it. He has a terrible disposition, you know."
"We shall charm him. He and the house are haunted, but fifty cents will
enslave them both."
"Fifty cents would buy two gallons of gas," whispered Zee, shocked at
the recklessness, but even her frankness did not extend to the point
of protesting at the extravagance of a stranger--especially when she
needed tea.
The Corduroy Crab greeted them as unconcernedly as though they came by
invitation, and took the bridle from Zee's hand.
"Sir, we had a sad accident," said the Curious Cat in a respectful
voice. "We are thirsty, tired, and--much wiser. May we have a cup of
tea on the porch in a hurry?" He slipped a half-dollar into the man's
willing hand as he spoke.
The Corduroy Crab seemed not at all surprised. "Of course," he said
briefly, and led the horse away.
"Now there's a gentleman," said the Curious Cat appreciatively. "Took
my money like a--preacher."
"What do you mean--like a preacher?" demanded Zee resentfully.
But the Curious Cat did not seem to hear, for he was piling soft
cushions into wide porch chairs where the girls might sit in comfort.
A little later a black serving man came out and pulled a small table
from a corner of the porch, arranging it deftly with doilies, and in
less than five minutes the girls were eating chicken sandwiches and
drinking tea--to be sure, they were not allowed to drink tea at home,
but Zee said truly that their nerves required something out of the
ordinary. And there was a small silver basket of chocolates on the
table--
"Isn't that lucky?" said the Curious Cat, eying the candy greedily.
"It is my one and only weakness. Apart from chocolate I am free from
worldly affectations. But chocolate--I eat it with every meal, and
take a piece to bed at night. Without it I am become as a ravening
wolf and a--a thirsting camel. It does seem rather a refined and
ladylike accomplishment for one as rough and rude as I--one of the
eccentricities of Nature, who played me many pranks."
"Yes," said Treasure politely.
"However do you suppose the Corduroy Crab--"
"Zee!"
"The what?"
"Oh, excuse me-- He won't tell, Treasure. We call him the Corduroy Crab
because he was so disagreeable, you know. I was just--"
"Pardon the interruption--but do you mind telling me by what
particular form of endearment you designate me?"
"The--the Curious Cat," said Zee, though Treasure kicked her smartly
under the table. "Because you were so cattish to us, making fun of us,
and laughing. Very catty thing to do. And we added the Curious because
you really are awfully--queer, you know."
"And what were you wondering about the Crab?"
"I was just wondering how he comes to have things fixed so lovely?
It is wonderful here. It used to be all tumbly and crazy, and things
growing everywhere, and little funny animals and bugs shooting around
in every direction--it was awful. Father brought us once because we had
to write a theme in school--and we couldn't sleep for two nights."
"It still looks wild," said Treasure softly. "But it is such a lovely
wildness--all the ugly grime is gone, and the beauty of it is more
beautiful than ever. And it doesn't make you shiver now--it only makes
you sad."
"It does not make me sad," said Zee. "I am never sad when there are
chicken sandwiches. And this china-- Well, I know it is better than
ours at the manse, and it was given to us by our last Christian
Endeavor, so you may know it is very nice indeed--but this is better
still--and I believe to goodness these are regular silver spoons. And
do you suppose the colored man is his servant? And hasn't he any wife?
And do you think he bought this place? I wonder where he got the money?
And why does he stay out of sight--he ought to come and eat with us,
since we are company?"
The Curious Cat waved his arms helplessly. "I am trying to bring a
spirit from the air to answer your questions. But it does not work. I
am afraid I ate too many sandwiches. I never can do my enchantments
when I eat more than six sandwiches at a sitting."
"I think we ought to go," said Treasure. "I am afraid we are not just
welcome. Wouldn't it be lovely to lie around here a whole day, Zee? But
we have to go."
"Can you truly sneak us in without any one catching us?"
"We are going to try."
So they drove hurriedly home to the manse again, and the girls said
good-by to their Curious Cat and felt that after all he had his good
points. He did not say a word about the shattered door of the barn, and
the girls did not wonder until he had lifted his hat and disappeared
how he was going to get back to his horse again.
They closed the doors of the barn sadly and went into the house.
How quiet and cool and beautiful the manse was that afternoon. They
walked slowly, appreciatively through every room. Doris, sitting in
the bay-window with the eternal mending, was like a glorious madonna,
and they put their arms around her and kissed her tenderly, as girls
returned from a long absence. But she took it very placidly. They saw
Rosalie lying on her bed up-stairs, reading, and eating an apple. How
pretty and dear Rosalie was. They stood in the doorway and looked at
her almost worshipfully. Outside their father's study they stood a
long time, thinking, but went at last to their own room and closed the
door.
A little later they heard their father at the telephone, asking
questions--but it was aimless conversation, they could make nothing of
it. How strange it was that they had not been missed. Such wonderful
things had happened, life had been spared to them by less than a
fraction of an inch--and here were their loved ones, Doris mending,
Rosalie eating apples, father writing a sermon--as serenely as though
two dear young daughters had not just been returned to them from the
shadow of the grave.
They sat in their room, waiting, talking not at all. After a while
Doris called them to supper, and they took their places in subdued
silence. What a wonderful way father had of asking the blessing--why,
every word of it seemed to call down a benediction on every one at the
table. And how good the dinner was--they were not hungry, but it was
delicious food, unbelievably well cooked. And Doris in the big kitchen
apron was exquisite.
When they reached dessert, Zee rose to the height of public confession.
"Father, Treasure and I--and principally I, for I did it--were very
naughty. We took the car out of the garage, and smashed the door
getting it out, and we drove into the country and nearly killed horses
and wagons and autos and ran into ditches and bent the fenders and ran
down a lot of chickens, and got stuck, and a man brought us home. We
are very sorry."
How calmly they took it!--a climactic, criminal thing like that--after
all, they were rather a sordid family.
Father looked at the girls soberly, noted their pale faces, the dark
circles under their weary eyes.
"I know it," he said at last gravely.
"Oh, father, you knew it--and you didn't try to find us?" There was
pain and reproach in Treasure's voice.
"I knew all that was happening," he said quickly, with a reassuring
smile at Treasure. "Mr. Smelton telephoned that he helped you to the
side of the road--that was the first we knew of it. And a little later
some one else--I did not just get the name--but he telephoned that he
was giving you some tea, and you were quite safe, and he was going to
bring you home."
"It was that Curious Cat-- You know, Doris, the one who made the
Corduroy Crab be good to us--"
"The Curious Cat? Oh, father, what was his name?" cried Doris, leaning
way over the table in her eagerness.
"It sounded like--Saunders--something like Saunders--"
"Saunders, nothing," cried Zee. "Saunders is the Corduroy Crab--we
heard that. Oh, it must have been him who phoned--"
"He."
"Yes, he. Because the Curious Cat was not away long enough--he just
left a minute--to see about the horse."
"And then he told Saunders to telephone--"
"Yes, of course."
Doris sat back. "The old torment. How can anybody find out about such a
curious old--Curious Cat?" she wondered to herself.
In answer to her questions, the girls could tell little.
"He does not live at the Haunted House, just the Corduroy Crab--and
the--the--"
"The Courteous Coon," cried Zee. "Let's stick to our harmony."
"They live there, and the Curious Cat lives somewhere very near--and
things are lovely at the Haunted House, there are flowers on the porch,
and pictures, and curtains--did you ever hear of such a thing? Soft
brown curtains of silk rubbery stuff--and it is lovely. And the vines
are all red and gold, and the ground is a mass of fallen leaves."
"Father, please tell us the punishment. It gives you such an--empty
feeling to have--unknown punishments hanging over your head."
"Oh, the punishment," he said, and started promptly for the door.
"That is why we have a General. Leave it to her."
The girls turned appealing faces toward Doris. "Tell us, General," they
said, in the tone of martyrdom.
"You can not ride in the car again for three whole weeks. When the rest
of us drive, you two must walk. And that is all--for you have had quite
a little punishment already."
The girls thanked her warmly, and went out. In the hall they looked at
each other lovingly, and smiled.
"Isn't that ducky?" said Zee. "It is not any punishment at all. Somehow
since this afternoon the smell of the engine makes me seasick."
Treasure quivered. "Ducky? Oh, Zee, it is delicious. Suppose she had
made us ride all day to-morrow. I couldn't have stood it."
"Anyhow, I guess I proved that I can drive the car," said Zee stoutly.
"Only, of course, since father does not wish me to, I shall never think
of doing it until I am older."