SPIES.
The servant who admitted the Girl Scouts that night to the home of Miss
Emeline Vaughn did not need to ask who the visitors were. He led them
immediately to the drawing-room, where an elderly lady was sitting in a
huge, upholstered arm-chair.
The first impression that the girls received of Alice’s aunt was of a
tiny shrivelled old lady, with very bright, beady eyes, which shone out
from beneath her white eyebrows with all the greater brilliancy. It was
evident that she was excited, and she gave them a triumphant smile.
“I knew that you’d make it!” she exclaimed, in a shrill, though not a
loud tone. “I’ve been telling the boys all along. Now—which is Alice?”
Her niece stepped forward instantly and gave her a dutiful kiss upon the
cheek.
“Let me introduce Mrs. Remington, our chaperone, first of all,” the girl
said. “And now the scouts. Not that you’ll keep us all straight, or
remember all our names—”
“Don’t you fool yourself!” interrupted the old lady. “I’m not decrepit
yet, though I may look it. As it happens, I know all of your names
already, and I’ll soon put them to the right people.”
Marjorie and Ethel exchanged meaning glances at this piece of
information. No doubt the woman was clever—clever enough even to cause
the obstacles which they had encountered to be put in their way.
“Which one is Marjorie?” she continued. “I understand that she is an
officer of your band—or whatever you call it.”
“Lieutenant of the troop,” replied Marjorie, with a salute.
“Well, sit down now and tell me all about it. I’ll send for my
nephews—they waited up for you.”
The girls did as they were bidden and Mrs. Remington began a brief
recital of their experiences. Before she had gone very far, the two
young men of the house entered.
They were both typical Americans of the better class; neat,
well-groomed, perfectly at ease in any surroundings. Marjorie could not
help noticing a certain similarity of appearance to McDaniel and Cryton,
a similarity that was due rather to environment than to any special
resemblance. It was evident that they too were college men, and not
surprising that they should be members of the same fraternity. For some
unknown reason she took a dislike to them.
“We were so afraid that you wouldn’t make it,” drawled Milton, the older
of the two. “And when eleven o’clock struck and still you didn’t come,
we felt sure you had lost the game.”
“And Auntie would have been so triumphant!” added Vaughn. “Because she
really didn’t want you to succeed!”
“Vaughn Crowell, what a story!” exclaimed the old lady, resentfully.
“I’m not the one that didn’t want them to succeed!”
“Only that you would get out of buying all those motor-cars,” ventured
Alice.
“Maybe not, but what good would that have done me? Didn’t I promise the
whole amount to your fraternity house if the girls didn’t succeed? But
I’m mighty glad that they have been so plucky!”
“What did you say, Miss Vaughn?” demanded Marjorie, sharply. “That the
fraternity would have benefited by our failure?” She glanced
significantly at Ethel.
“You weren’t supposed to tell that, Auntie!” remarked Milton, rather
sheepishly. “It looks rather queer for us!”
“It explains things,” said Ethel, coolly. “Because if I understand
rightly, Mr. McDaniel and Mr. Cryton belong to the same fraternity,
don’t they, Mr. Crowell?”
“Yes—do you know them?” asked the young man carelessly.
“We met them on the way out, more than once—several times, in fact. And
each time they seemed bent on delaying us whenever they could!”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Vaughn; “they never heard of Auntie’s promise. It was
only made jokingly, and never mentioned to anyone.”
“No,” put in Miss Vaughn, with sincerity, “the boys really haven’t seen
any college men since the term closed, and I have never even met these
two. Now tell me truthfully—are you absolutely sure that you didn’t
accept help from any men along the road?”
“Absolutely none!” declared Mrs. Remington, with assurance.
“I am glad to hear it,” repeated the old lady. “You bring credit to your
sex as well as to your organization. Now, suppose that we have something
to eat, and go to bed. We can talk about the automobiles tomorrow.”
The girls lost no time in obeying her orders, and soon were fast asleep
in the big, handsomely furnished rooms of this spacious house. In their
dreams they saw themselves driving their little roadsters in their own
home towns; for to all of them except Lily, the prospect of owning their
own cars was a novelty.
* * * * *
Having given instructions that the Girl Scouts were not to be disturbed
the following morning, Miss Vaughn breakfasted as usual with her two
nephews at nine o’clock. After reading her mail, she established herself
for a quiet morning on the porch with some books and her knitting,
hardly expecting to hear anything further from the young people until
luncheon. She was therefore quite surprised when her nephews strolled
towards her about eleven o’clock, accompanied by two other young men
with whom they had been playing tennis.
“You have met Jo and Ned, haven’t you, Auntie?” asked Milton, as they
mounted the steps.
“Oh, yes, of course,” replied Miss Vaughn, cordially.
The young men all sat down on the steps, while the old lady could not
help wondering what was about to happen, and whether there was any
particular reason for the visit.
“A pretty hot day for tennis,” observed Vaughn, as if to apologize for
the halt in the game. “So we thought that we’d take it a bit easy.”
“Yes,” added the one whom the boys addressed as “Jo”; “we’re both out of
practice. We’ve been east all summer.”
“Indeed!” observed Miss Vaughn, wondering whether they were fishing for
an invitation to meet the girls. If so, why had her nephews not invited
them? Seldom did they show such deference to her wishes.
“Did you motor?” she asked, casually.
“Yes, part of the time,” replied Ned. “It was great sport—” His voice
died down, as if he had something more that he wished to say, yet did
not possess the courage to utter it.
“We saw your party of girls along the way,” put in Jo. “At least, they
must have been the same ones, for they were all in scout uniform, and
were evidently touring.”
“Yes, I’d like to find out whether they were your Girls Scouts,” added
Ned, “just for the fun of it. I am sure that I should recognize them
immediately—”
“In other words,” snapped the old lady sharply, “you are hinting in
every way possible for an invitation. Well, I’ll gratify you: come to
dinner tonight!”
“Oh, thanks,” murmured both young men, gratefully.
“But to call your bluff,” continued Miss Vaughn, “how would you be able
to identify people whom you merely saw in another machine—both probably
going at a pretty good rate of speed?”
“But we weren’t,” objected Ned “Both the girls’ cars were stopped, and
we went slowly; in fact, we practically stopped, so that we could offer
assistance. Both their cars were in hard luck.”
“Punctures?”
“Yes—though the big one was fixed before we got there.”
“And the little one?” questioned Miss Vaughn, with a triumphant gleam in
her eyes. “Those girls turned down your offer for help?”
“Yes, they did,” replied Jo, stolidly.
“I knew it! I knew they would!”
“Naturally,” muttered Ned. “Very naturally! Those two frat brothers of
Milt’s were doing it all. We recognized them and beat it pretty quickly.
Nobody has any chance with the ladies when they are around!”
Miss Vaughn suddenly sat up very straight in her chair, twirling her
rings excitedly.
“What? What was that?” she demanded, in her shrill voice.
Ned and Jo looked at each other in obvious amazement, as if they could
not understand the cause of her disturbance, and both the Crowell boys
laughed scornfully.
“Let me explain,” said Milton, a smile of amusement still playing about
his mouth; “my aunt is giving these girls cars for reaching the coast,
if they comply with certain conditions she has made. And one of the most
important of these conditions is that they do not accept any assistance
from men along the road. She believes that they lived up to their
contract; now you two come along innocently with a different story, and
knock down their house of cards. Well, that’s too funny!” His tone
became cynical. “I knew the girls couldn’t do it, Auntie! And just think
how near they came to putting it over on you!”
By this time Miss Vaughn’s anger had reached the breaking point; she
rose from her chair and stamped her foot impetuously, in spite of her
seventy-odd years.
“You are sure of what you say?” she demanded, hotly.
“Sure of everything except the identity of the girls—and we’ll know that
when we see them,” replied Ned.
A sudden idea flashed into Miss Vaughn’s mind.
“You’re not in the boys’ fraternity—the one that profits by the Girl
Scouts’ loss?” she asked shrewdly.
“No, certainly not,” answered Ned. “Why?”
“Nothing!” She seemed to be thinking quickly. She took a few steps
towards the house, stopped as if to say something, changed her mind, and
went in.
At first it was her intention to rush straight to the girls’ rooms,
accuse them of the deceit, learn to what extent they had lied, and make
all those who had a part in it forfeit their rewards. But a little
consideration of the matter caused her to change her mind; after all it
would be better to wait until their identity had been established and
she was sure of her case.
It was nearly one o’clock when the scouts, refreshed by their sleep and
clothed in their pretty dresses which had been sent ahead in trunks,
appeared on the porch. They found their hostess alone; the tennis
players had long since returned to their game.
“Well, girls,” she said cheerily, “how does it feel to rest?”
“Wonderful!” cried Alice, gaily. “Almost too wonderful—for your sake,
Auntie! I’m afraid that we’ll want to stay here a good while!”
“You’re welcome to stay all summer if you like,” replied the old lady
hospitably. “In fact, you will have to be here some little time before
your cars come. I haven’t even put in the order yet!”
“Then you didn’t expect us all to win them?” asked Ethel.
“No, frankly, I didn’t. And I want to be sure that you deserve them
before you get them!”
“Then you’re not sure yet?” flashed Alice, suspiciously.
“There, don’t get so excited, my child!” said her aunt. “You need not
worry now—if your conscience is clear. Nor is there, I take it, any
hurry. Now let me tell you about the dinner party which I am arranging
in your honor for tonight.”
Daisy and Florence looked up expectantly, longing to ask whether their
friends of the road were included. They wondered, too, whether they had
called that morning as they had promised.
Miss Vaughn answered their question before they asked it.
“Mr. Cryton and Mr. McDaniel called this morning, but I sent word that
you girls were resting, and invited them to the party tonight. My two
nephews will be here, and two young men with whom they have been playing
tennis all morning.”
“Are they members of this same fraternity?” asked Marjorie,
irrelevantly.
“No,” laughed the old lady; “they are eastern boys. But they motored
across the continent, so they ought to prove interesting to you.”
“I am sure they will,” murmured Alice, as the party rose to answer the
luncheon summons.
The Crowell boys were a little late to the meal, but they entered the
room with the same assurance which they had displayed on the previous
evening, and Marjorie found her first feelings of dislike confirmed. As
the luncheon progressed, she grew increasingly ill at ease; the
beautiful, spacious dining-room, the noiseless servants, the delicious
food went by unnoticed. Something was wrong, she knew; she could sense
it before she could define it.
She glanced over at Ethel, and recognized the same evidence of distress
in her expression. Something in her eyes, too, said, “Trouble Ahead,”
and Marjorie looked away.
Both girls knew that as yet the cars were still only potential!