A COMEDY OF ERRORS.
The original lake party might have served as an excellent illustration
of the history of many principalities and nations. Having suffered a
division and then a subdivision and finally a breaking up into
fractional groups, it became as a weakened and shattered government,
powerless to help itself.
It soon became evident that Mary Price was too weary to take the long
walk back to the lake.
She was left therefore by the roadside with Percy and Elinor, while Dr.
Hume, Nancy and Billie went on.
"It will probably be no time at all before we pick them up," said the
doctor cheerfully, but they made the entire walk to the lake house and
there was no "Comet" to be seen.
"It left here two hours ago," the boatman informed them. "Maybe they
went on to the second bridge. That's half a mile beyond the first one.
They'll tell a person anything, these people here will."
"I suppose that's exactly what happened," Billie exclaimed, much
relieved. "They have been waiting at the second bridge and will be on
their way back by this time. But I think they will have to come all the
way. Nancy has a blister on her heel."
"Now, don't blame it all on me, Billie," said Nancy. "You know you are
dead tired yourself."
Billie smiled guiltily.
"I am played out," she said.
"I wouldn't think of allowing either of you young ladies to start on
another tramp," put in Dr. Hume. "I am too good a doctor for that. You
must stay right here and rest and I'll start back. I may meet the whole
party any time, now."
Billie and Nancy, therefore, settled themselves to rest on two benches
near the lake while the good doctor trudged off along the dusty road.
In the meantime, Mary, who had more than overtaxed her strength that
day, gave Percy and Elinor a bad fright by toppling over in a faint.
They brought her to with water which Percy carried from a brook in his
hat, and then carried her into the wood a bit where she could lie on the
pine needles and rest her head in Elinor's lap. But Percy hurried back
to the road to keep watch, and seeing a motor car broken down in the
distance hastened to catch up with it. It was a strange car, however,
and the chauffeur had not seen the "Comet."
And all this while, Ben and Miss Campbell, having waited an incalculable
time at the second bridge, had gone on for half a mile. Few people can
stand the test of being kept waiting. Their patience may be
inexhaustible but their judgments are apt to take a bad twist and bring
them right about face in the wrong direction.
It is true that Ben had yielded to Miss Campbell in going beyond the
supposed meeting place, and now to make matters worse, the "Comet" came
to an inexplicable standstill. Poor Ben, with small knowledge of what to
do, began a long and wearisome investigation of unfamiliar machinery.
There was something of the dumb driven animal in Ben when he entered
unfamiliar territory, and his slow plodding methods had been known to
irritate Miss Campbell profoundly.
And now, one more separation remained to complete the disbandment of
this innocent party of pleasure. Ben, shamefaced and very humble, was
obliged to confess to Miss Campbell that he could not locate the trouble
with the "Comet." Deeply he regretted his inefficiency, but there was
nothing to do but give up.
"I'm thinking," he said, "that maybe I had better walk back a little
ways and see if the others aren't coming up behind us."
"Very well," answered Miss Campbell with dignity. "You may go. I
suppose nobody would wish to harm an old woman."
Presently, therefore, she found herself alone in the wilderness. There
was something almost human and comforting about the "Comet," however,
that faithful mechanism that had borne them on so many pilgrimages, and
Miss Campbell addressed herself to him as to a human companion.
"I just believe you had more sense than that stupid Ben Austen," she
said. "You wouldn't go on because you knew perfectly well that your
mistress was behind you. You're a nice, good old thing."
She paused and peered out of the car. Darkness was falling and the road
was filled with somber shadows cast by the far-reaching branches of the
trees on either side. As far as she could see along the white strip of
road there was no human soul behind her. Her eyes swept the road in
front. It was criss-crossed with light and shadow and it was difficult
to make out anything moving, but Miss Campbell thought she saw an object
approaching. Yes, it was unquestionably an object. Something large and
white--a van. Great heavens, it was a Gypsy van!
"Ben!" she called, but Ben was quite a quarter of a mile away by now.
The only thing to do was to get out and hide behind a tree in the woods.
She could not bring herself to face a band of Gypsies. Hurriedly
climbing down from the car, Miss Campbell concealed herself in a thicket
of trees near the road.
Presently the van drew up alongside the empty car.
"By Jove, here's an abandoned motor. Where do you suppose the people
are?" said a man walking at one side of the van and driving the horse.
Two women were comfortably seated in rocking chairs in the little front
compartment of the vehicle.
"How strange!" said one of them. "It's like finding a derelict at sea.
Where are the Captain and the crew? Where are the passengers?"
"Where indeed?" thought the lady behind the tree.
"It's like the mystery of the 'Maria Theresa,'" pursued the man. "A
perfectly good ship abandoned in mid-ocean without the slightest
explanation and all on board lost forever."
This gruesome comparison made Miss Campbell decidedly uncomfortable.
"Shall we leave her to drift, ladies?" he asked affably.
"I will protect the 'Comet' with my life," she thought. "I don't believe
they are Gypsies anyhow. Their accent is too good, and a Gypsy would
never address the women of his family as 'ladies.'"
"I am afraid I am at present the sole survivor of the crew," she said
politely to the young man. "If you would be kind enough to advise me,
sir, I should be greatly indebted."
Immediately the man lifted his broad-brimmed hat and the women in the
rocking chairs leaned forward in order the better to see this dainty,
mysterious little lady in gray who had emerged apparently from a
primeval forest.
"With the greatest pleasure, ma'am," answered the young man, filled with
curiosity, and they all listened with courteous attention while she
related the history of the afternoon's mishaps.
"And now that stupid Ben, who is really a very nice boy under ordinary
circumstances, has gone off and left me and almost anything could have
happened,--wolves, Indians, half-breeds--" she added, thinking of the
treacherous Lupos.
After she had finished, the young man stood for a moment thinking.
"My name is Richard Hook, ma'am, at your service," he said. "The only
thing I could suggest is for me to unhitch Dobbin here and ride him down
the road to look for your party and leave you with my sister, Maggie,
and her friend. This is as good a place as any other for us to put up
for the night. You might as well start supper, girls. Perhaps this lady
is hungry."
"I am," interjected Miss Campbell fervently.
So it happened that Richard Hook went ambling off into the twilight on
old Dobbin while Maggie Hook and her friend, Amy Swinnerton, made Miss
Campbell comfortable in the van and prepared to cook supper.
"And you are not Gypsies after all?" asked the little lady, watching one
of the girls light a bracket lamp on the wall of the van.
"No, indeed," laughed Maggie Hook. "Not by birth at least, but I think
we have something of the Gypsy spirit because we love to spend our
summers in this way. Have you never seen a van?"
Miss Campbell could not say that she had and looked about her with much
interest.
"These are our beds, you see," Amy explained. "The top one folds up and
we use the lower one for a divan. Richard sleeps in a tent. This is the
dressing room," she continued with as much pride as a custodian showing
a sightseer over an ancient castle.
A little space had been curtained off in the back and behind this hung a
mirror over a small dressing table, and a row of hooks for clothes.
"And this is your kitchen?" asked Miss Campbell, indicating a row of
plates and cups on a plate rack and a small kerosene stove, at one side
opposite the beds.
"That and a chafing dish and a camp fire," answered Maggie Hook. "But we
mostly prefer the fire. I'll get things started here to-night and when
Richard comes he can make us a fire if he dares. I believe the laws
around here are pretty strict about fires."
"Well, my dears, it is assuredly the most complete and delightful little
traveling home I ever saw," exclaimed Miss Campbell, after she had
looked over the entire van and then seated herself in a rocking chair
to watch preparations for supper. It did not take long for her to make
friends with these nice young girls who were indeed about the age of her
own charges.
"How many are in your party, Miss Campbell?" asked Maggie, in the act of
breaking eggs into a bowl.
"There are eight of us, but I hope you aren't thinking----"
"Oh, but I am," insisted Maggie. "I am sure they will be very tired and
hungry, and, besides, we have plenty in the larder for everyone,--a
whole ham!" she added archly.
"Dear me, I wish Billie were here," said Miss Campbell. "I believe she
always keeps things stored away in the 'Comet' for an emergency."
"I'll beat up some Johnnie cakes," announced Amy. "We can cook those on
the wood fire later."
In the meantime, the waiters who had waited in vain and the wanderers
who had wandered fruitlessly, began to realize that the situation was
serious. Billie grew desperately impatient. At last she succeeded in
engaging a carry-all and two horses from a man at the moat house and
soon she and Nancy, seated face to face, were hurrying along the road.
Dr. Hume had met Percy. Ben had discovered Elinor and Mary standing
fearfully on the edge of the forest. By the time that Richard Hook had
got anywhere at all with his old nag, the lake-party, with the exception
of Miss Campbell, was re-united in Billie's carry-all and driving
comfortably in the direction of the "Comet."
They were very tired and hungry but a graven image would have melted to
laughter over this comedy of errors, and Richard Hook, hearing the gay
chorus of voices approaching, was quite sure it was another picnic
party. But he was not a young man to take chances, and having taken his
position across the middle of the road, he waved his arms and yelled,
"Stop!"
"Do you know anything about a little lady in gray and an abandoned
automobile?" he asked.
"Cousin Helen and the 'Comet,'" cried Billie, consumed with anxiety.
"Oh, Ben, how could you have left them?"
"But----" began Ben.
"I assure you the lady is in good hands," interrupted Richard. "My
sister is looking after her."
There were more explanations and presently they started on their way
again, and in a little while drew up beside the Gypsy van and the
abandoned motor car. And the upshot of the whole adventure was that the
two parties joined forces and provisions.
The boys built a fire against a great boulder on the river bank and
there was a wonderful supper. All the very best of everything was
brought out for the occasion. They ate Johnnie cakes from wooden
platters and drank black coffee from glasses, Russian fashion. Later
they sang songs and told stories around the camp fire. Never did people
commingle so agreeably as the caravanners and the motorists. Somehow
Sunrise Camp and Alberdina Schoenbachler faded into the dim recesses of
their memories.
"Of course you can't go home," Richard Hook remarked to Billie. "We'll
camp out to-night. You'll never be able to mend that car in all this
blackness, and it would be a pretty hard road to follow at night anyhow.
We've just come over it. Dobbin can pull the car over to one side of the
road, and Miss Campbell and Miss Price can sleep in the van."
"And we'll show you what a bed really is," Ben went on eagerly. "Not a
motor car cushion affair either."
To their surprise, Miss Campbell was agreeable to the plan.
"There's nobody at home to worry but Alberdina," she said, "and it won't
hurt her to lose a little flesh, anyhow."
The boys worked hard over the beds. Springy couches they made of spruce
branches, covered with blankets, and, at last as care-free as a lot of
Gypsies, they all slept as soundly as they had ever slept in their own
beds at home.