"Well, girls," exclaimed Ruth, next morning at the breakfast table,
"here we are ready for adventures. But they will have to be early
morning or late evening ones. It's already too hot to breathe."
"For my part," observed Miss Sallie, "the only adventure I am seeking is
to sit on the shady side of the piazza, in a wicker chair, and read the
morning paper."
"But, Miss Sallie, even that might turn into something," said romantic
Mollie.
"Yes, indeed," pursued Ruth, "you know the way mamma met papa was by
staying at home instead of going to a ball."
"Why, Ruth!" cried Miss Sallie.
"But it's quite true, dear Aunt Sallie. Mamma was visiting at a house
party in the South, somewhere, and she had a headache and stayed home
from a ball, and was sitting in the library. Papa came a-calling on one
of the others, and was ushered into the library, by mistake, and
introduced himself to mamma--and she forgot her headache and he forgot
he was due to catch a train to New York at nine o'clock. It was simply a
case of love at first sight."
"My dear, I am not looking for any such romantic adventures," said Miss
Sallie, bridling. "Your father was an intimate friend of the family at
whose house your mother was stopping. It was perfectly natural they
should have met, if not that evening, at least another one. I always
said your mother showed extreme good sense in staying away from a party
and nursing her headache. Not many others would have done the same."
Miss Stuart gave her niece a meaning look, while the four girls
suppressed their smiles and exchanged telegraphic glances of amusement.
Not long before Ruth had "doctored" herself up with headache medicine,
and had gone to a dance against her aunt's advice. As a result she had
been obliged to leave before the evening was over, more on account of
the medicine than the headache, Miss Sallie had believed.
"Dearest little auntie, you have a touch of sun this morning, haven't
you?" asked Ruth, leaning over and patting her aunt's soft cheek; while
Miss Stuart, who was indeed feeling the general oppressiveness of the
weather, melted at once into a good humor and smiled at her niece
tenderly.
Two persons were rather curiously watching this little scene from behind
the shelter of the morning papers. One of them, a very handsome elderly
man, seated at a table by the window, had started perceptibly when the
party entered the room; and from that moment, he had hardly eaten a bite
of breakfast. He was occupied in examining not the fair young girls but
Miss Sallie herself, who was entirely unconscious of being the object of
such scouting.
The other individual was quite different in appearance. He was dressed
in black leather from head to foot, and a motor cap and glasses lay
beside him on the table. His evident interest in the conversation of the
girls was impersonal, perhaps the curiosity of a foreigner in a strange
country. There was some admiration in his eyes as they rested on pretty
Mollie's golden curls and fresh smiling face; but his manner was
perfectly respectful and he was careful to conceal his glances by the
newspaper.
"That man is rather good-looking in a foreign sort of way," whispered
Mollie.
"Too much blacky face and shiny eye, to suit my taste," replied Bab. "He
looks like a pirate, or a smuggler, in that black leather suit."
"Dear me, you are severe, Bab," observed Ruth. "If he were not so young,
I should take him for an opera singer on a vacation. He would do nicely
dressed as a cavalier."
"Be careful, my dears; you are talking much too loudly," admonished Miss
Sallie, for the young foreigner had evidently overheard the
conversation, and had turned his face away to conceal an expression of
amusement.
"I vote we adjourn to the porch," said Ruth, "until we decide where we
are going this morning. Come on, auntie, dear. There may be a rocking
chair adventure waiting for you on that shady piazza. I saw a white
haired gentleman giving you many glances of admiration, this morning,
around the corner of his newspaper. Did you notice it, girls?"
"I did," replied Grace, somewhat hesitatingly, for she was just a little
fearful about entering into these teasing humors with Ruth.
"Don't be silly, Ruth," said Miss Sallie. But she glanced quickly over
her shoulder, nevertheless, as she led the little procession from the
dining room, her lavender muslin draperies floating in the breeze. She
stopped in the office and bought a newspaper, then proceeded to the
shady piazza, where she seated herself in a rocking chair and unfolded
the paper.
The girls leaned over the railing and looked down into the street, while
Ruth expounded her views on their morning's ride.
"Suppose we have a lunch fixed up," she was saying, "and spend the
morning at Sleepy Hollow? It's lovelier than anything you ever imagined,
just what Washington Irving says of it, a place to dream in and see
visions."
A charming tenor voice floated out from an upper window, singing a song
in some foreign language.
The girls looked at each other and laughed.
"He did hear us, and he is an opera singer," whispered Grace.
"I knew it," came Miss Sallie's voice from the depths of the paper.
"Knew what?" demanded the four girls somewhat guiltily, as the singing
continued.
"Knew that we would all be cremated if we came into these dreadful wild
regions," replied Miss Sallie, as she gazed tragically down the shaded
street lined with beautiful old homes.
"But, Miss Sallie," interposed Barbara in soothing tones, "the fires are
up in the Catskills and the Adirondacks, aren't they? It is only when
the wind blows in this direction that we get the smoke from them. Even
New York gets it, then; and certainly there is no danger of New York
burning up from the forest fires."
"Very well, my dears, if we do run into one of those shocking
conflagrations, you may just recall my words to you this morning."
The girls all laughed, and there is nothing prettier than the sound of
the light-hearted laughter of young girls; at least so thought the tall,
military-looking man they had seen at breakfast. He had strolled out on
the piazza, and was walking straight toward Miss Sallie with an air of
determination that was unmistakable even to the stately lady in
lavender.
A few feet from her chair he paused as if a sudden thought had arrested
him, and the two looked straight into each other's faces for the space
of half a minute. The girls were fairly dumb with amazement as they
watched the little drama. Miss Sallie's face had flushed and paled
before it resumed its natural peachy tone. They could not see the face
of the stranger whose back was turned to them.
"Is it possible," asked Miss Sallie after a moment, in a strange voice,
"that this is John Ten Eyck?"
She had risen from her chair, in her excitement, and the newspapers had
fallen on the floor with her lavender silk reticule, her fan and
smelling salts, her lace-edged handkerchief and spectacle case, all in a
confused mass.
"You have not forgotten me, Sallie?" the man demanded, almost
dramatically. "I am John Ten Eyck, grown old and gray. I never dreamed
that any of my old friends would recognize me after all these years. But
are these your girls, Sallie?" he asked, turning with a courtly air to
the four young women.
"No, indeed, John," replied Miss Sallie, rather stiffly, "I have never
married. This is my niece, Ruth Stuart, my only brother's child." And
she proceeded to introduce the others in turn. "Ruth, my child, this is
Major John Ten Eyck, an old friend of mine, whom I have not seen for
many years. I suppose you have lived in foreign lands for so long you
have completely lost sight of your American friends."
"It has been a great many years," answered Major Ten Eyck, after he had
taken each girl by the hand and had looked into her face with such
gentleness and charm of manner as to win them all completely. "It's been
thirty years, has it not, Sallie?"
"Don't ask me such a question, John Ten Eyck! I'm sure I have no desire
to be reminded of how old we are growing. Do you know, you are actually
getting fat and bald; and here I am with hair as white as snow."
"But your face is as young as ever, Sallie," declared the gallant major.
"Isn't it, Major Ten Eyck?" exclaimed Ruth, who had found her voice at
last. "She is just as pretty as she was thirty years ago, I am certain.
Papa says she is, at any rate."
"So she is, my dear," agreed the old man as he gazed with undisguised
admiration into Miss Sallie's smiling face.
"Do sit down," said Miss Sallie, slightly confused, "and tell us where
you have been, and what you have been doing these last three decades."
"It would take too long, I fear," replied the major, looking at his
watch. "I am looking for my two nephews this morning."
"You mean Martin's sons, I suppose?" asked Miss Sallie.
"Yes, they are coming down to stay with me at my old place, back yonder
in the hills. They are bringing one or two friends with them, and we
shall motor over this afternoon if the weather permits. But tell me,
what are you doing here? Spending the summer? Don't you find it a little
dull, young ladies?"
"Oh, we are just on a motor trip, too," replied Ruth. "We are birds of
passage, and stop only as long as it pleases us."
"And have you no men along, to look after you and protect you from
highwaymen, or mend the tires when they are punctured?"
"My dear Major," replied Miss Sallie, "you have been away from America
for so long that you are old-fashioned. Do you think these athletic
young women need a man to protect them? I assure you that the world has
been changing while you have been burying yourself in Russia and Japan.
Ruth, here, is as good a chauffeur as could be found, and Barbara
Thurston can protect herself and us into the bargain. She rides
horseback like a man." Barbara blushed at the memory of the stolen
horseback ride on the way to Newport. "Grace and Mollie are a little bit
more old-fashioned, perhaps, and I am as helpless as ever. But two are
quite enough. They have got us out of every scrape so far, the two of
them."
The girls all laughed.
Only Barbara, who was leaning on the railing facing the window, saw a
figure move behind the curtain, which had stood so still she had not
noticed it before.
"Since you are off on a sort of wild goose chase for amusement," began
the major (here the figure that was slipping away paused again),
"couldn't you confer a great honor and pleasure on an old man by making
him a visit?"
"Oh!" cried the girls, breathless with delight, remembering the
automobile full of youths that would shortly appear.
"Now, Miss Sallie, you see they all want to come," continued the major.
"Don't, I beg of you, destroy their pleasure and my happiness by
declining this request of my old age."
"Oh, do say yes, Aunt Sallie!" cried Ruth.
And still Miss Sallie hesitated. She had a curious smile on her face as
she looked out over the hills and meadows beyond.
"It's an interesting old place, Sallie," continued the major. "It was
built by my Dutch ancestors, a charming old house that has been added to
from time to time. I would like to see it full of young faces once more.
What do you say, Sallie? Won't you make us all happy? The boys and me,
and the girls, too? For I can see by their faces they are eager to
come."
"How far is it from here, John," asked Miss Sallie, doubtfully. "Is it
anywhere near those dreadful forest fires?"
"It is fifteen miles back in the country, and I have heard no rumor of
any fires in that vicinity lately. The boys and I are leaving this
afternoon. We will see that everything is ship-shape, and you and the
girls could follow to-morrow. I have an excellent housekeeper. She and
her husband were a young couple when I went away, and they have lived at
the place ever since. I am certain she can make you comfortable. I will
give Miss Ruth explicit directions about the route. It is a fairly good
road for motoring. We have a fine place for dancing there, young ladies.
There's a famous floor in what, in my grandmother's time, we used to
call the red drawing-room. There are dozens of places for picnics,
pretty valleys and creeks that I explored and knew intimately in my
youth. I have some good horses in my stables, Miss Barbara, if you have
a fancy for riding," he continued, turning to Barbara with such grace of
manner that she blushed for pleasure.
Looking from one eager face to another, and finally into the major's
kindly gray eyes, Miss Sallie melted into acquiescence and the party was
made up forthwith.
The major then pointed out to Ruth and Barbara the street they were to
take, which would lead to the road to his old home. He drew a map on a
piece of paper, so that they could make no mistake.
"When you come to the crossroads," he added, as a parting caution, "take
the one with the bridge, which you can see beyond. The other road is
roundabout and full of ruts besides."
Just then the horn of an automobile was heard, as a large touring car
containing four young men and a deal of baggage, drew up in front of the
hotel. At the same time, Barbara, who was still facing the window, saw
the figure on the other side of the curtain steal quietly away.
Major Ten Eyck went forward to meet the newcomers, and he and his two
nephews had a little earnest conversation together for a few moments.
The young men looked up, saw Miss Sallie and the girls, and all four
caps came off simultaneously.
"Please don't go yet," called the major, as Miss Stuart rose to leave.
"I want to introduce the boys first."
Stephen and Martin Ten Eyck were handsome, sturdy youths, with clear cut
features. The two visitors were far different in type; one, Alfred
Marsdale, a young English friend, who was spending the summer with the
Ten Eycks, and the other, Jimmie Butler, who seemed to have come from
nowhere in particular but to have been everywhere.
"And now come along, boys," urged the major, after he had given the
young people a chance to talk a few minutes. "These ladies want their
ride, I know, and we must be off for the hall before it gets too hot for
endurance."
With a last caution to Ruth about the proper road to Ten Eyck Hall, and
a reminder to Miss Stuart not to break her promise, the major ushered
his boys into the hotel office, while "The Automobile Girls" went up to
their rooms.
"Isn't this perfectly jolly, girls?" called Ruth from the mirror as she
pinned on her hat.
"De-lighted!" exclaimed Barbara and Mollie, joining the others.
"And listen, girlies, dear! Did you scent a romance?" whispered Ruth.
"It certainly looked very much like one," replied Barbara.
"They were engaged once," continued Ruth, "but they had some sort of
lovers' quarrel. The poor major tried to make it up, but Aunt Sallie
wouldn't forgive him, and he went away and never came back, except for
flying trips on business. Until to-day she has never seen or heard from
him."
"But she must have cared some, because she didn't marry anyone else,"
observed Mollie reflectively.
"I wonder what he did," pondered Grace.
"Flirted with another girl," answered Ruth. "Papa has often told me
about it. Aunt Sallie had another lover, at the same time, who was very
rich. She kept the two of them dangling on, and it was because she went
driving with the other lover that Major Ten Eyck paid devoted attention
to some other girl, one night at a ball. So they quarreled and
separated."
"Poor old major!" sighed tender-hearted Mollie.
"But she _did_ have her rocking chair adventure after all," laughed
Barbara, as they started downstairs in obedience to Miss Sallie's tap a
few moments before.
The lovely vistas of valley and river, with intersecting hills, were
softened into dream pictures by a transparent curtain of mist, which hid
the parched look of the foliage from the long drought.
The five automobilists sped along over smooth roads between splendid
estates. Most of the great houses were screened by stretches of thickly
wooded parks, and each park was guarded by a lodge, after the English
fashion. But there were plenty of charming old houses in full view of
the passerby--rambling, comfortable homes set down on smooth lawns.
"How beautiful all this is!" sighed Mollie, as she leaned back in her
seat and gazed down the long avenue of trees.
"Yes," called Ruth over her shoulder. "I took the longest way to the
church, because this road is so pretty."
"Here's the lane to Sleepy Hollow," cried the ever-watchful Barbara, and
the automobile turned into a country road that appeared to lead off into
low-lying hills beyond.
"What is that cloud of dust behind us," demanded Miss Sallie, looking
back.
"It's a man on a motor cycle," replied Grace. "He is turning in here,
too, but he is slowing up. I suppose he doesn't want to give us a
dusting. Rather nice of him, isn't it?"
"Fancy a motor cycle and a headless horseman riding in the same lane,"
observed Ruth.
"Well, if it came to a race," replied Barbara, "I think I would take the
motor cycle. They do go like the wind."
"And the noise of them is so terrifying," went on Ruth, "that the poor
headless horseman would probably have been scared back to death again."
Presently the girls came to a steep declivity in the land that seemed to
dip and rise with equal suddenness.
"Is this the Hollow?" asked Mollie a little awed.
"This land is full of hollows, my dear," answered Miss Sallie, who did
not like uneven traveling. "We have been through several already, and,
with that hobgoblin on an infernal machine coming after us, and all
these dense forests packing us in on every side, and nothing but a
lonesome churchyard in front of us, it seems to me we should have
brought along some better protectors than two slips of girls."
Here Miss Sallie paused in order to regain breath.
"I declare," exclaimed Ruth, "I don't know which one of these roads
leads to the churchyard. Of course we can explore both of them, but we
don't want to miss seeing the old church, and we certainly don't want to
miss lunch. It will be so cheerful picnicking in a graveyard."
The automobile stopped and the motor cycle, catching up with them just
then, stopped also. The rider put his foot down to steady himself, and
removing his black leather cap and glasses, bowed courteously to Miss
Stuart.
"Is Madame looking for the ancient church?" he asked, in very excellent
English with just a touch of accent.
The five women remembered, at once, that this was the stranger whom they
had lately seen at breakfast. From closer quarters they saw that he was
good-looking, not with the kind of looks they were accustomed to admire,
but still undeniably handsome. His features had rather a haughty turn to
them, and his black eyes had a melancholy look; but even the heavy
leather suit he wore could not hide the graceful slenderness of his
figure.
"Yes; we were looking for the church," replied Miss Sallie in a somewhat
mollified tone, considering she had just called him a hobgoblin on an
infernal machine. "Will you be good enough to tell us which one of these
roads we must take?"
"If you will follow me," answered the stranger, "I also am going there.
You will pardon me if I go in front? If you will wait a moment I will
get somewhat ahead, so that madame and the other ladies will not be
dusted."
"I must say he is rather a polite young man," admitted Miss Sallie, "if
he is somewhat rapid in his movements."
"He is curiously good-looking," reflected Ruth. "Not exactly our kind, I
should say; but, after all, he may be just foreign and different. Just
because he is not an American type doesn't keep him from being nice."
All the time the foliage was getting more impenetrable. Tall trees
reared themselves on either side of the road, seeming vanguards of the
forests behind them. A cool, woodsy breeze touched their cheeks softly,
and Barbara closed her eyes for a moment that she might feel the
enchantment of the place.
"How many Dutch burghers and their wives must have driven up this same
grassy road," she was thinking to herself. "How many wedding parties and
funeral trains, too, for here is their graveyard. No wonder a traveler
imagined he saw ghosts on this lonely road, with nothing but a cemetery
and an old church to cheer him on his way. And here is our auto running
in the very same ruts their funny old carriages and rockaways must have
made, and this stranger in front of us on something queerer still. I
wonder if ghosts of the future will ride in phantom autos or on motor
cycles. What a fearful sight! A headless man on an infernal machine----"
Her reflections were interrupted by the turning around of the
automobile. Ruth had evidently decided to go back by the way they had
come. Opening her eyes she saw before her a quaint and charming old
church set in the midst of a rambling graveyard.
There also stood the black cyclist, like a gruesome sentinel among the
tombs. He lifted his cap as they drew up, and, after hesitating a
moment, came forward to open the door and help Miss Sallie alight.
"Permit me, Madam," he said, with such grace of demeanor that the lady
thanked him almost with effusion. Grace and Mollie were assisted as if
they had been princesses of the blood, as they described it later, while
the other two girls leaped to the ground before he had time to make any
overtures in their direction.
There was rather an awkward pause, for a moment, as the stranger, with
uncovered head, stood aside to let them pass. The silence was not broken
and Miss Stuart chose to let it remain so.
"One cannot be too careful," she had always said, "of chance
acquaintances, especially men." However, she was predisposed in favor of
the cyclist, whose manners were exceptional.
The girls were strolling about among the graves, examining the stones
with their quaint epitaphs, while the stranger leaned against a tree and
lit a cigarette.
Miss Stuart, with her lorgnette, was making a survey of the church.
"From the account of the supper party at the Van Tassels' in Sleepy
Hollow," said Ruth, "the early Dutch must have just about eaten
themselves to death. Do you remember all the food there was piled on the
table at the famous quilting party? Every kind of cake known to man, to
begin with; or rather, Washington Irving began with cakes. Roast fowls
and turkeys, hams and sausages, puddings and pies and the humming
tea-urn in the midst of it."
"I don't think the women had such big appetites as the men," observed
Mollie. "At least Katrina Van Tassel is described as being very dainty,
and I can't imagine a pretty young girl working straight through such a
bill of fare, and yet looking quite the same ever after."
"But remember that they took lots of exercise," put in Barbara, "of a
kind we know nothing about. All the Dutch girls were taught to scrub and
polish and clean."
"What were we doing when Ruth and Miss Sallie and Mr. Stuart arrived,
Bab, I'd like to know?" interrupted Mollie indignantly. "Weren't we
rubbing the parlor furniture and polishing the floor?"
"Yes," returned Barbara, "but you could put our entire house down in the
parlor of one of those old Dutch farm houses, and still have room and to
spare."
"And think of all the copper kettles they had to keep polished," added
Grace.
"And the spinning they had to do," said Ruth.
"And the cooking and butter making," continued Bab. "Yes, Mistress
Mollie, I think there's some excuse for sausages and all the rest. And I
am sure I could have forgiven Katrina if she ate everything in sight."
"Ah, well," replied Mollie, "no doubt she was fat at thirty!"