CHAPTER IX—COMPLICATIONS

“Isn’t it strange, Jack,” almost whispered Cora to her brother, as, later that evening, the two sat on the veranda of their home, and talked over the day’s proceedings, “I cannot believe—they—took them. But it does look very——”

“Well, sis,” began the young man, “we have had other experiences with things that looked strange, and you will remember that strange looks are not to be depended upon for absolute facts.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to say that those two poor, strange girls could be so dishonest,” she hurried to say, “but the trouble is, that Mrs. Ramsy is angry with them for leaving her, and of course she will do all she can to make trouble for them. Then she even threatened me.”

“She did, eh?” exclaimed Jack. “Well, she had better go slow. I don’t call a person ignorant just because they happen to be illiterate, for I always find they know more than I do on some subject, but this woman—she is the—limit.”

“You see,” faltered Cora, hardly knowing just how to tell her brother, “the girls, it seems, had their mother’s wedding ring, and she took it from them. To make up for that they took the crate of berries, then finding the earring-box in it——”

“I know exactly what you are afraid to surmise, sis,” said Jack, “but, as I said before, it may all be wrong. I, of course, have never seen the girls, and cannot confess to so lively an interest in them as you have worked up, but I must say, I would like to see the old lady get what’s coming to her.”

The brother and sister sat in silence for a few moments, then a step on the path attracted their attention.

“Here comes Belle,” exclaimed Cora. “Whatever brought her out alone, so near to nightfall? She is usually so timid.”

Belle was actually trembling, as she took a chair on the porch. “Oh dear!” she began, “I am all out of breath. I was just scared to death coming over.”

“Why didn’t you ’phone?” asked Jack, “and I would have gone over after you.”

“Cora,” went on Belle, ignoring Jack’s remark, “I am afraid—there is a strange detective in—Chelton!”

“Well, what of that?” asked Cora, with a laugh. “Detectives are not really dangerous; are they?”

“Now don’t joke,” begged the girl. “I came over to warn you!”

“To warn me!”

“Yes, I heard that they are looking for——”

“Detectives looking for Cora!” almost yelled Jack, leaping up from his chair, as if some hidden spring had thrown him to his feet. “This is some of that woman’s work! Tell me quickly, Belle, all you have heard—all you know.”

“Bess and I were at the post-office when two strange men alighted from a runabout,” went on Belle. “They came inside—and at the stamp window asked where Cora Kimball lived. Then Bess became alarmed, declared that they were detectives, and she wanted to come straight over and tell you, but father drove up at that very moment, and Bess had to go in town with him. Then I was on my way over when Tillie, our maid, met me and told me that mother had company from the West, and I was to hurry back home. Oh dear me, I did think I would never get here! Such complications!”

“Now, dear,” said Cora soothingly, “don’t you be the least bit alarmed. Of course, it is quite natural that Mrs. Ramsy should try to find her nieces, and quite right, too, so there is no harm whatever in her directing any one to me, to make inquiries. She evidently thinks I know more about the girls than I do.”

“But there is a note in the evening paper telling all about the whole thing,” declared Belle, “and it mentions that one hundred dollars reward will be paid for the return of the diamond earrings.”

“Which looks,” said Jack, “as if they are more anxious about the stones than they are about the girls. Well, we will have to await developments. I was going down to bowl to-night, but I guess I had better hang around now.”

“Why, don’t be foolish, Jack. You may just as well go out as not. Even if a strange man does come up, I am sure I will be able to talk to him. I have—ahem!—met strange men before,” declared Cora.

“All the same, I guess I’ll stay. I want to take Belle home, at any rate, and I am not particularly interested in the bowling game to-night, though Ed wanted me to be on hand.”

A shout from the road, however, reminded Jack that it was time to start. The voice was at once recognized as that of Ed Foster, and Cora begged her brother to run along, and have no fears on her account.

“And father and Bess will stop for me later,” declared Belle. “They have been taking the Western folks out for a run. Bess has the car and papa the carriage, so there is no danger but that I shall fit in somewhere.”

It was, nevertheless, much against the better judgment of Jack Kimball that he left his sister and Belle, and joined his companions bound for the bowling alleys. He did not mention to either Ed or Walter his fears for the comfort of Cora, should she be visited by the detective, but they both noticed that he was not quite his jolly self, and that he seemed to take little interest in their conversation or the sport at the alleys.

It was now almost nine o’clock, and, as Belle and Cora sat on the porch, enjoying the moonlight, in spite of their disturbed state of mind, they began to feel that the detective scare had been unfounded.

“I can’t see why they would ask where you lived,” said Belle, “if they did not intend to call on you.”

At that moment a runabout turned into the driveway. Startled, the girls sprang from their seats and hurried forward to see who might be coming. Belle clutched Cora’s arm.

“Oh, it is the detectives,” she gasped. “I know their machine! Oh, why did we let Jack go away?”

“Don’t be nervous,” commanded Cora. “If they really are detectives they will have reason to suspect us, if they find us frightened.” Then, at a sudden thought, she added: “Belle, I believe you had better run indoors. You are nervous, and you might say something that would be better unsaid. I am sorry that the maids are both out, and that mother is not at home—it does seem as if we should have kept Jack.”

There was no time for further comment, for as Cora opened the French window to allow Belle to enter the house without being noticed, the two men were seen coming up the path.

Cora had been in unpleasant predicaments before, each time the circumstance being a matter of protecting some friend, and this time she felt “keyed up” to almost any emergency. Also her past experience had taught her valuable lessons, so that she had no idea now of saying one word that might in any way compromise the two helpless Catron girls.

But even so wise a girl as Cora Kimball may be careless in some matter, that, in itself, may seem unimportant, but upon which may hang the very thread of fate.

“Is this Miss Kimball?” asked the shorter of the two gentlemen who approached her.

“Yes,” she replied with unconcern. She stepped directly under the electric light that illumined the porch.

“We are sorry to disturb you, especially as it is rather late,” said the other man with unmistakable politeness, “but being in town we thought to cover this end of our business without making a second trip to Chelton. Is your brother, or mother at home?”

“No,” replied Cora, “but, if it is necessary, I can call for my brother, over the telephone.”

“Well, our business is a little unpleasant,” went on the man, “and we would prefer to speak with you—before your brother. Yet, as he is not at home, I believe we had best call again. We really only need to make sure that you are not going out of town at once. We have heard that you intend going to the seashore, and as we are detectives, looking for the two Catron girls, we felt you might be able to give us some clue as to their whereabouts. However,” and he turned to go down the steps, “we will come again to-morrow—if we may now make an appointment for an interview with you.”

Cora was much impressed with the man’s manners. She moved to the edge of the steps.

“Certainly, I shall be at home to-morrow,” she said, “and I will have my brother here with me. I will answer any questions, but really I know absolutely nothing of the whereabouts of the girls.”

The men were on the steps. The light from the porch lamp cast a shadow, and Cora raised her hand to turn the switch that would light the lower steps. As she did so, something dropped from her blouse.

The detective stooped to hand it to her.

It was the empty jewel case!

CHAPTER X—ALMOST—BUT NOT QUITE

“Certainly take it,” said Cora, “if it is of any use to you. I found it—out near the strawberry patch.”

She was speaking to the surprised detective. He was examining the empty jewel case, and she had no idea of denying how she had come by it. From the description furnished to them the men were, of course, easily able to identify the tell-tale box.

But in spite of their consideration, and good manners, the detectives felt that they had stumbled on a very important piece of evidence. Certainly, this was the box that Miss Schenk had described as that in which her earrings usually were placed. True, she could not specify just when she had last put them in this box, but that this was the box was an important discovery.

“I cannot believe that the girls took the gems,” said Cora, as the men at last turned to go, “for they seemed really such innocent young girls. The only thing unusual about them, that I noticed, was that they had been overworked, and were consequently rather——”

“Revengeful,” finished one of the men. “That is the suspicious point—even good young girls may be driven to desperation. However, Miss Kimball, with your permission, we will call to-morrow at four,” and they raised their hats, and went down the walk.

Cora was stunned—that she should have placed into the very hands of the detectives so important a clue!

“And I meant to hide that box safely in my room,” she reflected. “That was why I kept it in my blouse,—so as not to forget it.”

The long window opened and Belle almost fell into Cora’s arms.

“Oh, have they gone at last?” she gasped. “What dreadful thing happened?”

“Why, nothing happened,” replied Cora, making up her mind instantly that the fewer persons who knew about the jewel box the better. “I thought them very polite officers.”

“But when I saw you step to turn on the light I thought something happened—I saw you start.”

“Belle, my dear, you are too romantic,” said Cora, evasively. “I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you this time, however, for my callers scarcely said a single word that was new. They are just looking for our runaways. And I do wonder where the poor, dear, lost, little things may be to-night!”

“Isn’t it dreadful to think about it! I have read of such things, but to think that we really—know the girls.”

There was a catch in Belle’s voice when she said “know the girls.” Plainly she had her doubts about the desirability of their acquaintance.

A whistle on the path told of Jack’s return.

“Dear me,” exclaimed Cora, “whoever would think it is almost ten o’clock!”

“And what can have become of papa and the others!” pondered Belle. “They were to call for me——”

The familiar toot of the Flyaway’s horn interrupted her.

“There they are now,” declared Cora. “My! what a full evening we have had. I feel almost too flustrated to meet your Western friends,” and she smoothed out various discrepancies in her toilette.

“Come on, Belle,” called Bess from the machine. “We can’t come up. It’s too late, Cora!” she continued to call, “come here a moment. I want to tell you something.”

At this Cora and Belle went down to the roadway. Bess was in the Flyaway with her mother and a strange lady, while down near the turn, at the corner, the lights of Mr. Robinson’s carriage could be seen flickering in the summer night’s shadows. He had not gone on the long road taken by the auto and in consequence, the two vehicles had arrived at the same time.

“Cora,” began Bess, without introducing the stranger, “we have had the strangest experience! Away out on the river road we thought we heard the cry of a young girl! Yes, and we saw something white run across the road, in such a lonely place!”

“Mercy!” interrupted Belle. “I am glad I was not along.”

“Well, papa happened to meet us there and stopped, and the coachman got out, and we looked all over the place with our lamps in hand, and see what we found!”

In the uncertain light Cora could not at once make out just what was the object Bess held up for her inspection.

“Don’t you recognize it?” asked Bess. “Why, it’s Nellie’s gingham dress; the very one she wore the other day.”

“Oh,” gasped Belle, “do you suppose they have drowned themselves!”

“Come, daughter,” interrupted Mrs. Robinson, “we have already heard too much of these two very—indiscreet young persons. Come, Belle, my dear, we must get home. Cora, I would not advise you to waste too much sympathy on the girls from that farm. Evidently they are quite capable of looking after themselves.”

This was said with that authoritative manner used by older, and more prudent persons, when trying to curb the enthusiasm of the inexperienced. Mrs. Robinson was not unkind, but she did not think it wise to let the girls’ sympathy “run away with them,” as her husband put it.

“All right, mamma dear,” replied Belle meekly, really glad to climb into the small seat at the back of the Flyaway and start for home. The detectives had furnished enough excitement, but now came this strange news——

“Oh, I just want to tell Cora one thing more,” said good-natured Bess. “Cora, when we finally did give up the search, and had gone along a little way, a trolley car passed, and it stopped just at that turn in the road where there was an electric light.”

“And couldn’t you see who boarded it?” asked Cora.

“No, it was a park resort car, and just packed full of people, so we didn’t even have a chance to get a glimpse of those who either got on or got off. Well, good night, dear,” and Bess switched on the spark and started the engine without cranking. “I will see you to-morrow. We have got to finish up our plans—for—you know.”

It was the approach of Jack that stopped Bess in her remark. The young man joked about it, and declared that he would soon discover the secret, warning the girls that Cora could never keep good news away from him, and that he felt it in his bones she would tell him about it that very night.

The girls retaliated with the assurance that this time, at least, Jack was not to know their secret, then, when the Flyaway had whirred itself off, Cora and Jack, arm in arm, started back to the porch.

Cora hardly knew how to tell her brother about the jewel box, but she finally managed to explain the peculiar happening.

“Well,” said Jack, when she paused for his opinion, “there’s no use crying over spilled milk. The thing to do, I suppose, is to keep one’s hands off milk. Now, I reckon you will be subjected to a lot of questions, when those fellows come to-morrow.”

“They were really very polite,” Cora assured him, “and I haven’t the slightest dread about their questions. It seems to me, now, that we all ought to do what we can to trace the girls. From what Bess just told me I am afraid they are running about at night in lonely and dangerous places. And bad as their lot might have been, with their aunt, that was safer than these night escapades.”

“True—very true, little sister,” said Jack with his usual good spirits, “at the same time if they have committed—we will call it an indiscretion, in trying earrings in their ears, it might be just as well to give them a chance. No use running them into the very teeth of the law.”

That was exactly how Cora felt about it. “Well,” she said, as she picked up her fan and other little belongings, preparatory to going indoors, “we will see what comes of my official investigation. Perhaps, when the detectives have finished questioning me, they will be able to go to a telephone and call the girls home. I have always heard that detectives do such wonderful things.”

“Well, this time, sis, I will be at home when they call, unless something very unforeseen happens.”

Jack pushed the bolt on the heavy door, and Cora went over the first floor of the house, attending to the duties, with which her mother, upon her departure for the city, had entrusted her.

Then, handing the silver to Jack, she put out the lights, and bade him an affectionate good-night.

CHAPTER XI—ANDY’S WARNING

The parlor maid tapped at Cora’s door. Gentle as was the touch, it awakened the girl, who answered quickly.

“Miss,” said the maid, “there is a little boy downstairs who says he must see you at once. He simply won’t take no for an answer.”

“A little boy?” repeated Cora, sleepily. “Why, it’s only six o’clock!”

“Yes, I know that, miss,” went on the girl, “but Mary says he was outside on the step when she came down at five. He’s a poor-looking little boy, but he doesn’t want anything to eat. He says he must speak to you.”

Without the slightest idea who her caller might be, Cora hurried into a robe and went down.

“He’s on the side porch, Miss Cora,” said the maid.

Cora went out through the opened French window.

“Why, Andy!” she exclaimed, for her early visitor was none other than the boy from the strawberry patch. “Whatever brought you into Chelton so early?”

“It’s about the girls,” he said under his breath, looking around suspiciously. “And it’s about that old Mrs. Blazes!”

“No one will hear you,” Cora assured him, taking a seat by his side. “What about the girls, and Miss Schenk?”

“Yes, and I was afraid I would not get here in time. She’s comin’ in here—to scare you. I heard her tell Mrs. Ramsy so.”

“And you hurried in to warn me!” cried Cora, much amused at the lad’s simplicity. “I am sure I am very, very much obliged. But tell me, what did she say?”

Andy shifted about uneasily. Evidently the information he had was not of the nature pleasant to impart.

“It was awful late last night when I heard it,” began the boy. “Mrs. Ramsy owed mother for some washing, and she said if I went after the money late, when she had time to—bother with me, she would give it to me. Well, I waited until I saw she had slicked up the work the girls used to do, and I was going to knock at the side door, when I saw two strange men get out of an automobile, and make for Ramsy’s front door.”

Andy paused, evidently expecting some show of surprise at this information.

“Well, go on, Andy,” urged Cora. “What did the strange men have to do with it all?”

“They asked for Miss Schenk, and I just guessed right. They were detectives!”

Andy’s eyes opened and closed in nervous excitement. To talk of detectives! To have seen them and to have heard them talk!

“Well,” spoke Cora, almost smiling, “it was certainly right for Miss Schenk to have detectives look for her valuables.”

“That’s all right,” assented the boy, “but wait till you hear! They told her—them two big fellows, that you—had the empty earring box, and that they got it from you!”

For a moment Cora was quite as indignant as she rightly supposed Andy to be.

“Did they say they got it from me?” she questioned.

“They said they were on the right track and would have the diamonds back to Miss Schenk in one day. Then, when I heard them say your name, and that they had got the box out here, I just rubbered fer fair, I did.”

“Now, are you sure, Andy, that you understood just what they said?” asked Cora, to whom the actual report of the detectives to Miss Schenk meant so much. “Try to tell me word for word.”

“Oh, I heard them all right,” replied the lad, “fer I crawled straight under the window, and I was as close as if I was in the old rocking chair under Mrs. Ramsy’s arm. The thin fellow said he had found the box. Mrs. Ramsy asked where, and I thought she would swallow her new teeth the way she—gulped. Then the fellow said he had got them from a young lady out in Chelton. This was like a firecracker to the women, and they both went off at such a rate, that the fellows had to stop until they cooled off. Then, when they had said about all they could think of about girls in automobiles, and girls that came out makin’ believe to buy berries, and just to steal—then, the other fellow—he has young whiskers—he said, that he couldn’t say any more just then, but he did have to say that he got the box from Miss Cora Kimball.”

This was a very long, and trying explanation for a boy like Andy, and he showed how the effort affected him. He jabbed his hands into his pockets, crossed and recrossed his sunburned legs, then at last, with one final attempt at self-possession, he got up and deliberately chased the cat off the porch.

“Was that your cat?” he asked sheepishly, realizing that he had no right to interfere even with a cat on another person’s stoop.

“Why, yes,” replied Cora, “but it is too early for his breakfast, and he knows he is not fed—here. So it’s all right.”

Then Andy sat down again, a little shy from his error, for he suddenly remembered a story his mother used to tell him of a rich young lady and her pet cat.

“But you were saying,” Cora reminded him, her voice kinder if possible than before, “that these detectives claimed I gave them the box. Or did you say they claimed to have taken it from me?”

Andy scratched his head, right at the left ear which always served as a cue to the forgotten thing.

“They didn’t say neither one,” he replied finally. “They—said—they got the box in Chelton—off a young lady!”

Cora never before realized what an error in speech might involve, but she knew it was useless to question the boy further.

“Well, don’t worry about it,” she said, “and I think now you ought to be ready for breakfast. Come, I guess Mary has something ready.”

The boy stood up beside Cora, then, following an impulse that he plainly could not resist, he stepped between her and the door to the dining room.

“I ain’t hungry, miss,” he said, “but I want to warn you. You better git out of the state!”

So sudden and so unexpected was this bit of advice that Cora almost laughed, but looking into the earnest face before her she was constrained to repress even a smile.

“Why, Andy,” she cried, “I am not afraid of any one. I don’t have to run away.”

“Well, you better be,” he declared, his cheeks reddening to the very tint of his hair. “You better be afraid of Ramsy and Schenk. They’re a hot team.”

“But what have I done?” continued Cora, for the boy’s manner demanded attention.

“My uncle didn’t do anything either when he got out of the state. And if it hadn’t been for that he would have been sent up. Fer nothin’, too.”

That there was more wisdom than eloquence in this was plain to Cora, but, even at that, she failed to grasp the whole meaning of Andy’s warning.

“Will you go to-day?” he almost begged.

“Why, Andy?”

“Yes, please do go. I would hate to see you git into that—mix-up.”

“Now, little boy, you must not worry about me. See what a big strong girl I am, and you know what a strong man Jack is.”

“’Taint a matter of fists,” Andy declared, clenching up his brown hands, “but it’s them womens’ tongues. You don’t know what sneaks they are, and if you don’t say you will go away to-day, before they git at you, I think I had better tell your brother all about it.”

“Haven’t you told me all about it?”

“Not quite,” said Andy. “I don’t suppose a girl ought—to know everything about—scraps!”

CHAPTER XII—THE “UNPLANNED” PLANS

Cora was always a pretty girl, but in her corn-colored, empire gown, that morning at the breakfast table, even her own brother was forced to express openly his admiration for her.

“Whew, Cora!” he exclaimed, “but you do look like a—tea-rose in that wrapper.”

“Jack, dear, this is not a wrapper, but the very best design in empire,” and she smoothed out the fullness that lay about her.

“Well, it’s all right, anyway,” declared Jack. “Makes me think of rose leaves, the way it clings about you.”

“What a pretty speech, brother. Now, if that had only been saved up for Bess, or Belle or Hazel! By the way, we haven’t seen Hazel this summer. I suppose she is studying as hard as ever. What a pity a bright girl like Hazel is not bright enough to save her health by taking the regulation vacation.”

“Well, with Paul away I suppose Hazel thinks there is nothing left to do but study. I never saw brother and sister more attached,” remarked Jack, taking his fruit from the dainty leaves in which, when Cora “kept house,” she always insisted that fruit be served.

Paul and Hazel Hastings were indeed devoted brother and sister. Paul was also a devotee of the motor, and more than the amateur chauffeur, yet not quite the professional. He had an interesting part to play in the story “The Motor Girls On a Tour.” But Cora had just remarked, Hazel had not been with them during the summer in which this story took place, and, as Jack further explained, this was due to the fact that Paul Hastings, after a severe illness, had taken a position to operate a car abroad, Mr. Robinson having arranged the “business end,” in recognition of Paul’s heroic work for Mr. Robinson in a mysterious robbery.

“But Belle had a letter from Hazel,” said Jack, after some thought, the trick of which was not lost on Cora. “Yes, she said Hazel might go away with them. And now, sis, where are they going, anyway? Come, haven’t I waited long enough for that secret?”

“It really isn’t any secret, Jack, but the girls have a baby way of wanting to keep things to themselves until all the preparations are made. I find it convenient to—keep my affairs to myself, so you see, dear, I have a selfish motive in humoring the others.”

Cora’s cheeks lighted under the cascade of shadows that fell from her splendid black hair. Jack saw, too, that his “little sister” was growing up, and even in her summer plans there were things other than flounces and frills to be considered.

The lighter vein of their conversation had been taken up after Cora had told her brother all that she felt it was prudent to tell about Andy’s early morning call. And now——

“Well, I suppose you are determined to see the detective fellows,” said Jack, moving Cora’s chair out so that she might more easily leave the table.

“What else can I do?” she asked, and answered at once, with her decisive tone of voice.

“I think with Andy—you ought to ‘git away,’” and Jack smiled in imitating the earnest youngster.

“And make matters look as if I were more deeply involved than I really am? Now, Jack, dear, that is not like you.”

“No matter what you make matters look like, so long as you don’t make them look like themselves,” replied the boy. “That’s my brand of logic in a case like this. Don’t you see, sis, you may throw them off the track, and by getting a chance to talk with you, they are bound to find out something, or lose their badges.”

Cora’s face was bent in the roses that stood on the serving table. “But what could I do?” she asked, this time with less decision.

“Anything. Just take a run to—the beach—or anywhere. Leave me to see the officers.”

The rapid tooting of horn of the Flyaway interrupted them.

“My!” exclaimed Cora, “more early morning callers? There’s Bess!”

And, true enough, there was Bess, guiding her car up the drive, her veil flying in the breeze, and her cheeks like the very roses that outlined the path.

“Why the where-for-ness?” demanded Jack. “I am startled—collapsed—I might say, by the suddenness of this—pleasure——”

“Now, Jack,” and Bess had alighted from her car, “you are not to make jokes, we haven’t time. I am almost dead from hurrying. Mother decided, about midnight last night, that we should go to——”

Then she stopped. How silly it would be to blurt out in one mouthful all the story of their secret planning!

“Oh, go ahead,” said Jack with a light laugh. “I am deaf and dumb, also blind and halt. I have no idea where you are going. A trip over the Rockies——”

“Come in, Bess dear,” said Cora, “and leave the boy to himself. You are certainly out of breath, and——”

Cora drew the arm of her friend within her own, and with all sorts of glances at Jack, who was actually seated in the Flyaway to make sure that the girls would not get away without his knowledge, Bess and Cora passed into the house.

“We are going to-day,” went on Bess. “Mother wants our Western friends to have an outing at the beach—they have never been to salt water—and, as they must start back in a few days, we have to go to-day. Can you come?”

“How could I—go, this very day?”

“Why, we won’t start until afternoon. And you have everything ready,” urged Bess. “It will be fun. We’ll stop over night at a hotel and reach the shore next day.”

It seemed to Cora that all the powers were conspiring to get her out of Chelton that day, and it also seemed as if it might be rash to oppose such a force. True, she did have everything ready, and her household matters were always in such shape she could leave the servants on an hour’s warning. Bess saw that Cora was uncertain, and she hurried to take advantage of the possible favorable opportunity.

“Oh, Cora, do come! What a perfectly stupid time we would have on that long run with just mama and the others. We wanted to go in the Flyaway and let them go by train, but, of course, mama would not hear to that. So now papa has hired a big machine and a chauffeur from the garage and Belle and I will go in our ‘Bird,’ while the others travel near us in the hired car. Don’t you see, if you go along with the Whirlwind what a splendid time we shall have?”

“Let’s tell Jack—or ask him,” said Cora finally. “He knows we are getting ready for some trip, and I guess we can trust him not to tell the other boys.”

“Don’t you want the other boys to know?” asked Bess, a tone of disappointment in her voice.

“Do you?” asked Cora, mischievously.

“Oh, I suppose they will find it out. And besides, Cora, honestly, don’t you think we would be—lonely without—the boys?”

Cora burst into a merry laugh. “There, Bess, my dear, you have broken the watchword—you are to be responsible for the boys. We pledged ourselves, as we always do, to ‘keep them out’ this time.”

When Jack heard the news he hugged Cora in the very presence of Bess. The sister knew what he meant (it was getting away from the detectives), although Bess was somewhat embarrassed at the extravagant show of affection. Then Jack did what a boy does “when in doubt,” he started a series of somersaults and sofa pillow turns, until Cora declared he quite forgot that he was in the company of ladies.

With profuse apologies he assumed an unwonted show of dignity, and without another word went upstairs and called up first Ed and then Walter on the telephone, telling each all he knew, and all he could guess about the trip to Lookout Beach, and fairly begged the boys to go along!

“I am afraid the girls will have to spoil their trip if we don’t go,” he said to Ed, who had made a half excuse, “for they really couldn’t travel along that road without us!”

And this in the very face of the fact that the elders were going along, and that the girls had declared that no boys could go!

“Won’t there be high jinks!” Jack asked, and he told himself, with a jolly chuckle, as he hung up the receiver and went down to the girls, that if any “jinks” were lacking, it would not be his fault.

“Too bad we fellows can’t take you out a little way,” he said, innocently, as he came downstairs, “but the fact is, we have made plans—our plans are still secret!” and Jack ran down the walk like the big boy that he was in spite of his few years of good record at college.

Turning as he reached the street, he shouted:

“Oh you—secrets!” then Cora and Bess were left alone.

“Well, I suppose I can go,” said Cora, finally, “although it does seem strange to leave town in such haste. But after all, if I remain longer, I shall only find more things to be attended to, and I will be just as well off to—escape from them.”

Bess was delighted, of course. She knew Cora so well, and she had grave fears that the methodical young girl would not run away at such short notice, but, now that she had gained her chum’s consent, Bess had need to hurry back and finish up her own preparations.

Jack was on his way to the post-office, when he saw the now familiar figure of little Andy. He hailed him pleasantly, and the boy lost no time in hurrying up to the tall young man who waited for him.

“Now, Andy,” began Jack, “suppose you tell me about those women—those who are after my sister. When did they say they were coming to Chelton?”

“I heard them tell the—the men that they would come in on the two o’clock trolley,” said Andy, “and that was the reason I thought it would be better fer your sister to be—out of town. Is she goin’?”

“I guess she is,” replied Jack, much amused at the boy’s earnestness. “But she has no reason, you know, to want to avoid any one.”

Andy hung his head. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets. This latter gesture Jack knew was equivalent to preparing for a sudden shot of information.

“It looks bad,” said the boy, timidly.

“What looks bad?” demanded Jack.

“Well,” said Andy, “maybe you won’t believe me, but it was just this way. I was under the window listening, when all of a sudden old Ramsy took out of her pocketbook a slip of paper. She handed it to the man, and said that she had found it in the girls’ room, and that she was sure that your sister gave it to Rose, for she saw her slip something into her hand as Rose went out from the shed. The man read what was on the paper and then put it on the window sill. A nice little breeze came along——”

“And blew it right out to you,” finished Jack, not attempting to hide his surprise at the boy’s astuteness.

“Yep, and I’ve got it right here,” Andy declared, jabbing his hand into his torn blouse, and then from the depths of what might have been a handkerchief, had it not been beyond identification, he produced a card.

“That’s my sister’s card,” said Jack, still showing surprise. Then he turned to the reverse side. He read the words, written in pencil: Clover Cottage—Lookout Beach. “That’s nothing,” he added, “that’s the cottage where my sister is going to spend the summer. She wrote it on the card for a memorandum, I suppose, and forgot about it.”

“But Nellie and Rose had it in their room,” persisted Andy.

“Perhaps my sister asked them to write to her,” went on Jack, wondering why he bothered so much with the idle chat of an ignorant urchin.

“Well, Mrs. Ramsy said if she could get hold of the girl that gave that card to her girls, she would not wait for judge or justice but she would—well, she said she would do lots of things.”

Jack laughed outright. “Now, see here,” he went on, finally, “you had better take this car back to Squaton, Andy. You have been away from home for a long time, and the first thing you know they will have detectives looking for you. Or, maybe, they will say—you ran after the girls!”

It was not like Jack to joke in that strain, but the lad looked so comical, and he said such serious things in contrast to his appearance, that for the life of him, Jack could not resist the temptation to tease him.

“Nope. I’m not goin’ home,” declared Andy. “Mom knows where I am, and I am goin’ to stay in town till the two o’clock trolley comes in.”

“To meet the Ram and the Schenk?” asked Jack, laughing. “Then at least take this change, and look the town over. Buy some ice cream and—a brick bat or two to have ready when——”

“There’s a fellow I know,” interrupted Andy, and taking the proffered coin, he was soon lost to Jack, and to the business of detecting the detectives.

CHAPTER XIII—GOING AND COMING

The weather was uncertain—it might rain, but there were cobwebs on the grass, which meant “clear.” But the sun did not come out, and it was past noon.

These unfavorable conditions were unusual on a day when the motor girls were to make a run, but Bess, Belle and Cora were almost too busy with their preparations to pay much heed to the possibility of rain while en route.

The start was to be made at two o’clock, and the chimes on the dining room mantel of the Kimball home had just warned Cora that half the hour between one and two had gone by.

“We take no note of time but from its flight,” quoted Cora to herself, hurrying through the room to crowd a last few things into her motor trunk. “I wonder where Jack is?”

At that very moment Jack’s inevitable whistle was heard, and the next, the boy was in the room, looking as deliciously lazy as ever, in that way so peculiar to boys who have a great deal to do at the time; the science of which studied indifference is absolutely impossible for a girl to fathom.

“Why this fluttering fluster, sis?” he asked, crumbling deeper in the leather-cushioned chair. “You will positively get overheated and ruin—your—complex—ion!” This last was drawled out with the most aggravating yawn.

“Why, Jack, I have to be in my car at ten minutes to two, and do you see the time?”

“No, but I hear it. I wonder who on earth put a clock to ticking. Bad enough to hear the hours knock, but this constant tick——”

“Jack, whatever you have to say to me please say it,” interrupted the sister. “I know perfectly well that this preamble is portentous.”

“No, it’s merely pretentious,” answered Jack, drawing from his pocket the card that Andy had turned over to him. “Do you happen to remember where you dropped this?”

It was a simple guess, but Jack tried it.

“Dropped that?” repeated Cora, taking the card from his hand. “Why, I declare! I have looked everywhere for that. I wanted it last night. I had actually forgotten the name of the cottage, and I wanted to give it to you for your note book. Where did you find it?”

“Didn’t find it, it found me. Andy gave it to me.”

“Andy!” and Cora’s eyes showed her surprise.

“Yes. He said the old lady, Ramsy, found it in your strawberry girls’ room.”

“Whatever are you talking about, Jack?” demanded Cora with some impatience. “Don’t you know I have to hurry, and you are teasing me this way?”

Jack went over to his sister, and put his bare brown arm around her neck. She looked up from the folding of her trinkets, and smiled into his face.

“Now, see here, sis,” he said, “I am telling you the exact truth, and when I say exact, I mean exact. Andy told me he caught this card on a fly as it flew out the Ramsy window, when they were letting fly their opinions about the motor girls. Andy caught the card on the first bounce, stuck it in his pocket—no, let me see! He carried it against his heart, between his second and third ribs——”

“Oh, I know!” interrupted Cora. “I dropped that in the shed when I opened my purse to pay for the berries. I thought I felt something slip from my hand.”

“There,” and Jack made a comical effort to pat himself on the back. “Jack, my boy, you are a wonder! If you don’t know what you want just guess it.”

“And they said I gave that card to the girls? To give them a place to run away to, I suppose.”

“That was it,” replied her brother. “You see, old lady Ramsy has an idea you want to abduct those girls. But it was a lucky breeze that blew the card to Andy. Otherwise you might expect an early call at Clover Cottage from the honorable Mrs. R of the Strawberry Patch.”

“As if there was anything strange about me dropping my own personal card,” mused Cora aloud. “And what difference did it make who might pick it up?”

The clock gave the alarm that the hour was about to strike. Cora jumped up and slipped into her coat and bonnet.

“It seemed foolish for the Robinsons to hire a car to take their friends down when I am riding alone,” she said, “but the girls made me promise not to offer my car, but to carry the bags in the tonneau—Bess and Belle expect to get as far as possible from the—chaperone conveyance. Well, Jack dear, I am rather a naughty sister to run away, and leave you thus, when mother specially intrusted you to my safekeeping. But you have compelled me to go, haven’t you?”

“Forced you to,” admitted Jack, picking up the bag and following her to the door.

The maids were in the hall waiting to assist Cora, and to bid her good-bye. A word of kind instruction to each, and Cora jumped into the car. Jack, having cranked up, took his place beside her.

“I will go as far as the trolley line,” he said. “I want to see if Andy takes that two o’clock car when it turns back.”

There were many little things to be spoken of between brother and sister, and, as they drove along, Cora referred more than once to the visit of the detectives. Jack assured her that he would attend to them and then, reaching the turnpike, where the trolley line ended, he bade her good-bye, jumped out, and, for a moment, watched the pretty car, and its prettier driver, fly down the avenue.

The next moment a trolley car stopped at the switch. From the rear platform two elderly ladies alighted rather awkwardly. They were queerly dressed, and the larger, she in the gingham gown, with the brown shirred bonnet, almost yanked the other from the steps to the ground, in attempting to assist her.

“The Ramsy and the Schenk!” Jack told himself. “Cora did not get away any too soon!”

The women turned to the other side of the road. As they did, Jack felt a tug at his coat.

“That’s them,” said Andy, almost in a whisper, “and there come the two detectives! If you like you can stay away from your house, and I will lay around, and find out what happens!”

“Why, they will want to see me!” declared Jack, in some surprise at the suggestion.

“Suppose they do? Let them want,” answered the urchin. “If I was you I‘d just lay low. My mother always says ’the least said is the easiest mended,’ and she knows.”

The advice, after all, was not unwise, Jack thought. He had other things to attend to besides talking to a pair of foolish women, and answering the questions of a pair of well-paid detectives.

“Maybe you’re right, Andy,” he said. “I believe I am busy this afternoon. But take care that you don’t get in the scrap. They will be bound to have revenge on some one.”

Andy sprang back of the car to avoid being observed by the women, as they turned to see which way they should go. Jack was not afraid of being noticed by the women, and he was a stranger to the detectives. The latter directed the women to walk over to the avenue, and then they followed at a “respectful distance.”

Andy slunk out from his corner, darted off in the opposite direction, and Jack knew he would be at the Kimball homestead considerable in advance of the others.

“The Imp of the Strawberry Patch,” thought Jack, in his usual way of making a story from a title. “He’s a queer little chap, but not so slow, after all. How very much more reasonable it is for me to turn in and talk with Ed and Walter, than to go back home and jab answers at that quartette.”

Then the thought of Cora’s word (that she would see the detectives) crossed his mind. For a moment he almost changed his resolution. Then he decided:

“All’s fair in love and war, and if this isn’t war, it’s a first-class sham battle.”

Andy was out of sight. The last “rays” of the two country skirts could just be made out, as their owners trudged along the avenue, and Jack Kimball took up his tune, where he had left it off, thrust his hands into his pockets, and sauntered off in the direction of the town garage.

As he anticipated, both Ed and Walter were there, putting Walter’s machine in ship-shape for the run after the girls.

“Are you sure, Jack Kimball,” demanded Ed, “that the young ladies will be in no way put out by our rudeness? I have a particular desire to please the ladies.”

“Oh, you’ll please them, all right,” replied Jack, taking a seat on the step of a handsome car, just in front of the one his friends were busy at. “There is nothing on earth pleases a girl so much as to run after her, when she distinctly says you shall not go.”

“Hear ye! The expert!” called out Walter, as he rubbed the chamois over the brass lamps at the front of his runabout. “Jack happens to know all about the game. Don’t you remember the success of our hay-mobile run last year, when we went after the girls on their tour? Well, take it from me, the event this year will be equally disastrous—only more so,” and Walter gave a last flourish to the lamp-polisher, then did a few fancy steps, in front of the car, to see that the reflection was correct.

“What time do we start?” asked Ed.

“Soon as we are ready,” replied Jack. “The girls have already gone on, and I promised Mr. Robinson that we would keep just near enough to be within call, should they need us, but far enough away to be out of danger of their—Walter, what do you call it when a girl declares she can’t bear a thing, and she just loves it?”

“Oh, that’s—that’s good taste,” replied Walter, running his hands through his hair with the doubtful purpose of removing from them some of their lately acquired gasoline and polishing paste.

“Then, according to Walt, we must keep at a respectful distance from their good taste,” finished Jack.

“You are sure—the ghost works all right?” asked Walter. “There is nothing more disgusting than a ghost that refuses to work.”

“Oh, my ghost is a regular union man—eight hours and all that,” replied Ed. “I’ve tried it on the chickens, and they almost turned into pot-pie from actual fright.”

“And what time are we counting on getting to a putting-up place?” Walter asked further. “If we leave here about three, will we get anywhere in time to—have breakfast, for instance?”

“Well, my machine is in fine shape,” declared Jack, “and I just count on the Get There beating your little Comet if yours is a newer machine. With this calculation we should get to the Wayside by eight o’clock. The motor girls are going to put up there for the night, and we may be able to put down there, if it appears out of good style for us to put up there.”

“Why didn’t they go right on—start in time to reach the beach to-night?” inquired Ed.

“Oh, just a whim. Girls want all that’s coming to them, and a night at a Wayside they count among their required experiences, don’t you know. And the old folks being along made it particularly all right,” declared Jack.

“But they’ll beat us by an hour now,” almost sighed Walter, who was becoming famous among his chums for his keen interest in the girls and their doings.

“Not much,” answered Jack. “They are going the long way ’round. Do you suppose they would go over the new road? Why, the dust would blind Cora if she made a single mile of that grind and grit.”

“Well, after my beauty bath, I’ll be about ready,” observed Walter. “Ed, don’t put too much witch-hazel on your locks. Makes me think of the day after fourth of July, when I went to grandmama’s.”

“Not half as bad as your new gloves. They give me a regular spell of the pig skin fever. I’ll bet they’re made out of junk, and you got stuck. Three dollars for a pair of gloves to save your lily-white hands—your lily-white hands!” and he ended in the strain of the familiar college song.

“Well, I’ll be going,” said Jack. “See to it that neither of you fellows do so much primping that we miss our—guess,” and with that the three young men parted, each going his own way to make ready for the run after the motor girls.