FOLLOW THE LEADER
When the Girl Scouts went to sleep that night, they had every intention
of making the usual start at eight o’clock in the morning. Yet Mrs.
Remington did not feel justified in asking to be called; they were all
tired-out, and needed what sleep they could get. Moreover, she did not
anticipate any real delay.
The surprise was therefore very great when Marjorie awakened to hear the
town clock striking twelve. One glance at Lily told her that her
companion had scarcely stirred during the night; a shout into the
adjoining room assured her that the other girls were still in bed.
An overpowering sense of calamity hovered over her until she was able to
recall the events of the previous night, and remembered that they had
been robbed of all their ready cash. Just as she was about to arouse
Lily, Mrs. Remington softly entered the room. Instantly Marjorie
discerned that something further was wrong:
“What is it, Mrs. Remington?” she asked without any ceremony.
“My travellers’ checks are gone,” replied her visitor, with a slight
tremor in her voice. “I did carry them in my satchel, but yesterday I
remember that I transferred them to my purse. And of course I handed
that over to the bandits!”
Instead of being alarmed at this piece of information, Marjorie looked
immensely relieved.
“That’s all right!” she exclaimed, gleefully. “It’ll be a good joke on
the thieves, for we’ll telegraph the bank to stop payment—”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Mrs. Remington. “All well and good. But that
won’t help us now. We haven’t any money!”
“Oh, horrors!” gasped Marjorie, looking from Lily to Mrs. Remington in
distress.
“Don’t you suppose somebody will cash an ordinary check?” asked Lily,
hopefully.
“Nobody knows us here. No, there is no chance except from the bank. We
could wire home for money—” Mrs. Remington stopped abruptly, a cloud
crossing her brow. “But we can’t do that till Monday—for all the banks
close at noon on Saturday.”
“Oh!” wailed Marjorie; “now we are in for it! And we have to be at Aunt
Emeline’s by midnight on Monday.”
“We can’t possibly!” cried Lily, bursting into tears, an act which
summoned the other scouts from the adjoining rooms and necessitated a
restatement of the facts as they now stood.
“Maybe the proprietor of this hotel will cash a check for us,” suggested
Alice, optimistically.
“He might; but I don’t think he would unless we had some means of
identification,” said Ethel. “No, I guess we may as well make up our
minds to stay until after nine o’clock on Monday morning.”
“Nevertheless we can approach the man on the subject,” Marjorie
remarked. “He can’t do any worse than refuse.”
“He might put us out,” said Lily.
With all possible celerity, Mrs. Remington left the room to put the
proposal to a test. When she returned in fifteen minutes the girls knew
instantly by her expression that she had been unsuccessful. However, the
proprietor had extended them the courtesy of an invitation to remain as
long as they wished.
“Then,” concluded Alice, “we have to stay over Sunday, and trust to luck
that we can make Aunt Emeline’s in one day. Let’s don’t worry any
more—there’s simply nothing to be done!”
But Marjorie and Mrs. Remington decided to leave no stone unturned in
their attempt to raise money. First of all they went to the police
authorities with a full report of their misfortune; then they sought the
president of the local bank, a Mr. Simpson, at his own home. Here they
were received graciously, not only by the man himself, but by his wife
as well, and into their sympathetic ears they poured their disconcerting
tale. Neither seemed to doubt its authenticity for a single instant.
“I can’t do anything for you in the bank’s name,” the president informed
them when the story was finished, “but I will be glad to help you
personally. It won’t inconvenience me in the least!”
“You can telegraph our bank at home, and get a reply on Monday,” Mrs.
Remington suggested.
“I don’t need any further proof of your honesty,” answered Mr. Simpson,
with a kindly smile; “your faces and your uniforms are sufficient!”
Marjorie unceremoniously let out a shriek.
“But we can’t accept help from you—splendid as it is of you to offer
it!” she objected. “Because our rules forbid us!”
“What rules?” asked the man, in amazement. Marjorie hastened to make the
necessary explanation; and although Mr. Simpson protested that he was
not to be classed as “a man along the road,” the girl stuck to her
resolution.
“We don’t want to leave a loop-hole of uncertainty,” she said; “we can’t
be too careful—it might disqualify us.”
“Then I positively can’t do anything to help you?” he inquired, in
obvious disappointment.
“No, you can’t, dear,” replied his wife, quietly. “But—” she beamed all
over her face, for she had taken a fancy to Marjorie—“but I can, and
will!”
“Oh, thank you!” cried the girl, jumping up in joy. “And let’s settle
down to business right away—for there isn’t a moment to be lost!”
It was five o’clock in the afternoon when Marjorie and Mrs. Remington
finally left his house; too late, of course, to consider beginning to
drive that night. They hurried back to the hotel and found three of the
girls waiting for them on the porch. Daisy and Florence were missing.
As soon as Mrs. Remington had told her story she inquired for the other
two girls. Lily and Ethel exchanged amused glances, and Alice informed
her that they had discovered some friends at the hotel and had gone for
a walk with them.
“Friends!” repeated Marjorie. “Then they could probably have helped us
out on the money question!”
“Yes, I believe that they offered to,” remarked Ethel indifferently.
“But I’m glad we don’t have to accept their assistance.”
“What’s the matter?” demanded Marjorie. “Who are they?”
“Three guesses!”
“Not those young men who own that red racer?” she asked, almost
contemptuously.
“The very same,” laughed Alice.
“How did they get here?” inquired Mrs. Remington.
“I don’t know—except that their car brought them,” returned Ethel.
“They certainly do follow us!” exclaimed Marjorie. “And I tell you
what,” she added emphatically, “I’m getting sick of them! Every time
that there is a misfortune, they are on hand. Something else will
probably go wrong now!”
“Something else has gone wrong,” answered Lily. “I wanted to move the
car out to have it washed, and I found that there was water in the
carburetor. I mentioned it to the young men, and they wanted to fix it—”
“You didn’t, let them?” interrupted Marjorie sharply.
“Mercy no! If we lose our rewards I want it to be for reason which we
couldn’t help—not because we were weak enough to accept assistance from
men.”
“Here they all come!” announced Alice, suddenly. “The girls look happy
enough!”
“Too happy!” growled Marjorie. “Well, I’m going in—I don’t care about
meeting these men again.”
Just as she disappeared within the doorway of the hotel, the four young
people mounted the porch steps.
“Perhaps we could help you,” suggested McDaniel, graciously, after he
had paid his respects to Mrs. Remington. “But if we do, we want to exact
a promise!”
“Yes?” queried Mrs. Remington.
“You all stay here over tomorrow morning and don’t start until after
dinner. Then we’ll advance you enough money to get to San Francisco!”
Ethel’s lips curled ever so imperceptibly.
“Many thanks, Mr. McDaniel,” she said, coldly, without waiting for Mrs.
Remington to speak; “but we already have secured what funds we need from
the president of the bank. And,” she added maliciously, “we are starting
at seven o’clock tomorrow morning!”
Both men looked crest-fallen at her words, and McDaniel turned
imploringly to Mrs. Remington.
“Please stay just till after dinner tomorrow!” he begged. “We had made
such a thrilling plan—”
“As thrilling as winning seven automobiles?” interrupted Ethel,
sarcastically.
Neither man made any attempt to answer this question, and Ethel left the
porch to join Marjorie. Finding her up in her room, she settled herself
to repeat the foregoing conversation.
“Marj!” she cried, her eyes still flashing with anger at the effrontery
of the young men, “do you know that I almost believe those people are in
league against us. They just seem bent on delaying us whenever it is
possible!”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Marjorie, “I have been thinking that all along.
Just wait till we get to San Francisco! Then I’m going to question Aunt
Emeline pretty closely about it. If she has been mean enough to employ
them—”
“Oh, well, we’ll win out anyhow, in spite of everything!” Ethel asserted
triumphantly.
“And we won’t take their advice about roads, either!” said Marjorie. “We
won’t repeat our experience in Chicago!”
There was no need, however, to worry about which road to take, for the
Lincoln Highway was in the best condition and stretched before them
straight to the coast. They travelled all day Sunday, taking the
precaution to select a hotel before sun-down. One day only remained
before the stipulated time should expire; yet the girls felt confident
that they could reach Miss Vaughn’s house before midnight of the first
of August.
They awoke early on the morning of their last day, eager to complete
their long journey, and to receive their rewards. It was with a sinking
sensation that they saw rain-drops on windows, and clouds in the sky,
but they had no intention of allowing the weather to defeat them.
Deciding to proceed cautiously rather than too speedily, they made their
way across the country to the city that is the gateway of the west. The
journey was tiresome and somewhat of a strain, in spite of the beautiful
scenery, but it was successful. At six o’clock that evening they reached
the center of the city.
“We can’t walk in at this time of the night and surprise Aunt Emeline,”
said Marjorie. “So hadn’t we better go to a hotel for supper, freshen up
a bit, and telephone to her that we are on our way?”
“Then she could give us explicit directions about how to get there,” put
in Alice.
“Are you sure that we have time enough?” asked Ethel. “It takes a long
time to eat dinner in a hotel. And midnight tonight—”
“Oh, we have oceans of time!” exclaimed Daisy, laughingly. “All our
worries are over now!” Accordingly they stopped at one of the largest
hotels, and Alice went immediately to the telephone booth. What a shock
she received when she discovered that Miss Vaughn was not listed!
“Probably she doesn’t want to be bothered with charity solicitors, and
keeps her name out of the book,” suggested Lily.
“Or perhaps she’s too old-fashioned to have a phone,” observed Alice,
bitterly. “Hard luck for us!”
“And yet she’s up-to-date enough to be interested in Girl Scouts,” said
Marjorie.
“And to present us with motor-cars!” put in Daisy.
“She hasn’t yet,” remarked Ethel; “and won’t if we don’t get there
before midnight!”
“Well, I always knew that she was as queer as they make ’em,” said
Alice. “She’s awfully old, you know, and though she has made a will in
favor of those two nephews, mother says they live in deadly terror lest
she’ll change it for some whim.”
“I believe it!” laughed Marjorie. “She certainly has kept us in fear and
trembling for the last few weeks. But I really think that we are going
to get the best of her at last!”
At eight o’clock they started on their way again, in the general
direction of the suburb in which Miss Vaughn lived. So jolly and gay
were the girls that they lost all track of time; only Marjorie and Ethel
kept looking anxiously for the big school-house that was to mark their
turning. When houses became fewer and farther apart, and the landscape
took on the appearance of the country rather than of the suburbs,
Marjorie experienced growing apprehension lest they were lost. At last
she stopped the car and turned to the others for consultation.
“We’re on the wrong track, I’m sure!” she declared; “and I think that we
had better go back to the hotel and start again. It’s ten o’clock.”
“Ten o’clock!” repeated Lily in dismay. “Suppose we waste two more
hours! We’ll never make it!”
“I have an idea,” continued Marjorie. “We won’t take any chances. Two of
you girls take a taxi and give the driver the address; then we’ll play
follow the leader close behind with our machine.”
The plan was immediately adopted, and at eleven o’clock they were back
at the hotel where they started. Lily and Mrs. Remington were elected to
ride in the taxi, which, to the girls’ surprise, drove off in the
opposite direction from which they had just come. Marjorie turned about
and trailed it for about half an hour; then, at precisely twenty-five
minutes after eleven, they entered an impressive gateway and drove up
the long, winding road which led to the Vaughn mansion. The girls were
so awe-struck by its grandeur that they almost neglected to pay the taxi
driver.
“I’ve never been in any place so wonderful!” gasped Daisy, as she
mounted the steps.
“It looks like the movies,” added Ethel. “I hardly expect to find real
people—”
“We had better not delay too long,” advised Florence, calling them back
to the practical. “We have only half an hour before our time is up, and
it may take them that long to answer the bell!”
“Especially if they have gone to bed,” remarked Alice.
“But surely they’d wait till midnight!” said Marjorie.
A moment later, in answer to their ring, the door was opened by a
butler, and the girls entered the most magnificent house they had ever
seen. They believed that at last they were safe from delay and disaster;
they had won their goal! The grandfather’s clock in the hall struck the
half hour as they passed into the drawing-room.