THE VISIT TO MAE’S.
For the next few days everything went serenely. The weather was fine,
and the scenery beautiful; with the exception of one thunderstorm and
the spoiling of some rather good food, the girls met with no misfortune
whatever. Nor did they see the red car again until they stopped at a
hotel in Pittsburg. Then they met the young men in the lobby, just as
they were about to go in to dinner. Florence and Daisy both nodded
graciously, and Alice squeezed Ethel’s arm so hard that she exclaimed
aloud.
“Now’s our chance to pump them,” the excited girl whispered. “Make Flos
and Daisy introduce them!”
“You still really cling to the theory that they are on the look-out for
us?” asked Ethel.
“Why, certainly; Aunt Emeline could hire other spies besides my
cousins.”
“Yes, but would she? Personally, I believe their own statement about
their business, though they may be detectives or—”
“Do hurry, girls!” interrupted Marjorie, beckoning to them to follow
her. “Everybody is waiting!”
As soon as they were seated at the table, Alice repeated her desire to
be introduced to the two young men. Florence, however, was scornful of
her reason.
“Don’t be so impulsive, Alice!” she said. “There’s nothing a bit unusual
about those two men. It’s easy to understand now why they go back and
forth, first in one direction and then in another, whenever they get
news of another fraternity brother to look up. However, you may as well
meet them if you want to; after all they are rather stunning.”
“Yes, in looks,” admitted Marjorie. “But there is something about them
that I don’t like—I don’t know just what—”
“They’re not John Hadleys!” supplied Florence. “Well, wait till you meet
them. I’ll seize any opportunity that comes.”
But unfortunately for Alice, no opportunity did come, for the young men
left the hotel immediately after supper, not to return again. For the
time being they were forgotten; indeed, the only event that loomed large
before them was their visit to their old chum at Lima.
“And now for Mae’s!” cried Marjorie, as she again took command of the
wheel of the larger car, and directed it through the city, back to the
Lincoln Highway.
“That will be something like a stop,” said Ethel, who happened to be
riding beside her. “Friday—Saturday—Sunday—three whole days! We haven’t
been gone long, and yet I’ll be glad for the rest.”
“It will be nice,” replied Marjorie. “But we can make little week-end
stops all along the way, if we continue to run on scheduled time without
any delays. We have two whole weeks extra, don’t forget!”
“Still, we mustn’t be too extravagant,” Ethel reminded her.
And yet, in spite of their forebodings, they found no more difficulties
in their path as the time progressed; indeed, they began to feel as if
luck would be with them all the way. They drove into Lima on scheduled
time, and went directly to Mae’s new home.
They found it without any trouble, situated on the wide main street,
farther out from the traffic and the places of business. The width of
the avenue, the height of the lovely old shade trees, the dignity of the
green and white house itself, surrounded by beds of flowers, took them
somewhat by surprise; they had not expected to find anything so
prepossessing in so small a town.
Carefully locking their machines, but leaving their baggage until later,
they ran lightly up the hedge-bordered walk to the porch. The prospect
of seeing one of their missing comrades filled them all with delight,
and made them act like children again.
“I’m going to be the first to give Mae a big hug!” exclaimed Alice,
pushing right up to the doorstep.
“No, me!” protested Daisy, as if she were a six-year-old.
“Here she comes!” announced Mrs. Remington, and both girls jostled each
other towards the door. A moment later it was thrown open from the
inside; but instead of Mae’s smiling countenance they beheld the
immovable face of a butler!
“Oh!” gasped Alice; but Mrs. Remington saved the situation by asking for
Mrs. Melville.
“She is expecting you,” answered the servant, quietly. “Please step in.”
The interior of the house proved to be just as charming as the exterior.
The wide, square hall with its lovely curved staircase, the big rooms on
either side, now appearing cool and delightful with their summer
hangings and grass rugs, the big screened windows reaching from the
floor to the ceiling seemed so restful, so inviting to the girls after
their hot trip. The whole house was much more sumptuous than anything
they had pictured; for a moment they felt almost awe-struck, as if they
were about to pay a formal call upon some older woman instead of being
there to spend the week-end with one of their chums. But as soon as Mae
entered, they forgot their embarrassment.
“Don’t you feel terribly dignified in this wonderful house?” asked
Alice. “So grown-up—?”
“Only when the minister calls, or I am engaging a servant,” Mae replied.
“But just with Tom or my own friends, I still feel like a kid.”
“And now tell us all about the wedding,” pleaded Lily, unwilling to wait
even until they had removed their hats.
This of course was a subject upon which Mae was well versed and she
gladly went into details, describing everything she could think of to
her interested listeners. Finally she rose with the suggestion that the
girls go to their rooms.
“And you really have a place for us all?” asked Alice, incredulously.
“Yes, indeed,” laughed Mae. “My one regret is that we couldn’t put the
boys up. There are four of them, besides Mr. Remington—”
“When are they coming?” interrupted Lily.
“Not till tomorrow afternoon. I am planning a little dinner-dance, just
with the crowd and two extra young men Tom is inviting to make the
numbers come out even.”
“Oh, Mae!” exclaimed Marjorie. “You are making it so attractive that we
will never want to go any further.”
“Suits me! Why not stay here for the rest of the summer?”
“It would be lovely,” sighed Daisy, who was a little weary from the
trip.
Supper that evening was to be out of doors, in a charming little summer
house overrun with rambler roses. The girls sat down on the rustic
benches with deep sighs of content; they were glad to be still for a
while, glad to be able to drop their sense of responsibility for the
time being, and to know that they could enjoy this evening alone. It was
Ethel who voiced the sentiment of the crowd.
“The party with the boys will be lovely tomorrow evening,” she said,
“but isn’t it nice now just to be alone!”
“It certainly is,” agreed Marjorie. “And I have such a ferocious
appetite, Mae; I’m afraid I’m going to eat you out of house and home.”
“No fear of that,” returned her hostess. “Now girls, somebody has got to
tell me all about your trip—I want every single detail!”
“Oh, it’s been terribly uneventful,” complained Alice. “Except for the
red car, with the two good-looking young men, it’s been too monotonous.”
“What two young men?” asked Mae.
“Oh, nobody special,” answered Lily, lightly. “Of course Flos and Daisy
do think they’re pretty nice—” Then she went into detail about the
story, insignificant as it was.
“Do you really think,” inquired Mae, after Lily had finished, “that you
are going to earn those cars at the end of the trip?”
“We’re certain of it,” said Marjorie, with the same assurance she had
displayed all along.
This very positiveness was a source of great comfort to the more timid
girls; in fact, all of the scouts had so much confidence in her that
they rejoiced to find her so optimistic. It was only the boys who
secretly experienced a feeling of dismay at her attitude. John Hadley in
particular, though he liked to see Marjorie succeed in everything she
undertook, had been hoping that she would give up this trip, which at
the same time was so dangerous and so tiring. Besides, he hated to have
the girl so far away, and so inaccessible to mail. In his inmost heart
he had been cherishing the longing that something would happen to bring
them nearer to home for the summer. However, he decided not to let any
regrets disturb the enjoyment of this week-end.
The boys had arrived late in the afternoon, an hour or so before dinner;
but Tom and his two guests had not yet put in an appearance. It was
Alice who seemed most eager for them to come; perhaps this was because
among the four young men now present—Jack Wilkinson, John Hadley, Dick
Roberts, and Bill Warner—she was not anyone’s particular favorite.
“What are their names, Mae?” she asked.
“I forgot their first names,” replied her hostess. “Their last names are
McDaniel and Cryton. They’re fraternity brothers of Tom.”
“What?” cried Florence, with a start. “Not really? Are they strangers in
town?”
“I believe so. Why? Do you know them?”
“I should say we do! Why, they’re the mysterious men Alice was telling
you about! Tell us about them, Mae!”
“I’m sorry,” replied the bride, “but I never heard their names mentioned
before. Evidently they are not intimate friends of Tom’s. He said that
they practically invited themselves; I believe they dropped into his
office about some frat business, and told him he had to find them some
amusement for Saturday night. Luckily, he hadn’t asked anybody else yet
for the dance, so he invited them to the party.”
“And do they know that we are touring—I mean that the girls they are to
meet are crossing the continent in a car?” asked Daisy, in an animated
tone. “And that we are Girl Scouts—?”
“Yes, I believe Tom did mention something like that.”
“Then they’ll probably not be surprised to find out who we are!”
exclaimed Daisy.
“Girls!” interrupted Alice. “There’s something more than coincidence to
this. Those young men _are_ stalking us! I’m sure of it now.”
“Alice, I thought we convinced you that there was nothing to that
theory,” protested Florence. “Won’t you please forget it?”
“I’ll try to,” murmured the girl, meekly. “Still, I am crazy to meet
them.”
She did not have to wait long, for a few minutes later the young men
arrived. They did not appear in the least surprised at seeing the girls
again, and greeted Daisy and Florence as old friends.
“Companions of the road!” cried McDaniel, shaking hands heartily.
“Here’s hoping we can keep this up!” added Cryton. “It’s mighty
pleasant—”
“We didn’t know you belonged to Tom’s fraternity till Mae told us,” said
Daisy.
“Well, it’s a very large organization,” replied McDaniel; “in fact, the
second largest in the United States.”
“Maybe you know my cousins,” ventured Alice; “you seem to know so many
people.”
“What are their names?” inquired Cryton. “Crowell—Milton and Vaughn, of
San Francisco.” She watched the young men narrowly.
“Yes, indeed!” replied both of them without the least hesitation.
“And my Aunt Emeline?”
“No, we have never met her.”
Alice’s face clouded; it was unlikely that the boys were carrying out a
mission for a woman whom they did not know. They probably were not
lying, or they would have concealed their acquaintance with her cousins.
Alice heaved a sigh of disappointment.
Mae, who had noticed both Daisy’s and Florence’s interest in the young
men, contrived to seat them next to each other at the table; and during
the whole meal they so succeeded in absorbing the girls’ attention that
it was noticeable to the other members of the party. Marjorie even made
a remark to this effect to John Hadley.
He hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully before he ventured a
reply.
“Marjorie,” he said, almost under his breath, “I don’t like those two
young men.”
Marjorie, who had been thinking the same thing herself, was surprised at
his opinion.
“But why?” she asked.
“I can’t explain it—but—well—they just look deceitful. And I don’t like
to see Daisy and Florence so interested.”
“Oh, well,” said the girl, lightly, “we probably won’t see them again.
So I guess it’s no serious matter.”
“Then you don’t think that there is anything to this theory of Alice’s?”
“Absolutely nothing! Except that both the young men are rather fresh,
and think it smart to make themselves conspicuous.”
“Just the same,” observed John, “I wish that they were not travelling
your direction across the continent.”
But Marjorie only laughed at his fears, and before the discussion had a
chance to go any further, the party adjourned to the porch. There the
other groups were broken up, but Daisy and Florence, with the two young
strangers, sought a corner by themselves, and, much to Marjorie’s
dismay, remained there until the music started. Even then, they did not
dance much with the other boys; by the time the evening was over,
Marjorie had begun to take John’s words seriously.
It was not, however, until Sunday night that she was honestly worried.
Then she overheard Daisy come to Mrs. Remington with the request that
they be allowed to stay in Lima another day.
“Without us?” asked the older woman, in astonishment.
“Yes—and go on later with the little car. Mae will be delighted to put
us up another night.”
“Have you any special reason?” inquired Mrs. Remington.
“Yes, we want to go on a picnic with the boys. They know of the
loveliest little stream—”
But Mrs. Remington shook her head.
“I couldn’t let you, Daisy, unless the whole party stayed.”
Marjorie frowned as she heard this suggestion, but Daisy jumped at it
eagerly as the solution of her problem.
“Then you all stay too!” she pleaded.
In the end Mrs. Remington consented, and much to the delight of their
hostess, the scouts remained until Tuesday morning.
“Three days gone out of our surplus of fourteen!” sighed Marjorie, when
the time of the visit was up, and they took to the road again.
“But such happy days!” added Daisy, her eyes shining with the memory.