When Ed, Jack and Walter ran down the sandy beach, directly into the water, and then attempted to rescue from the waves a lady and her daughter, who were in the ocean-going auto, the girls were not afraid to follow them—to the extent of walking into the water knee deep.
The helpless woman was a cripple, and when she, with an exhausting effort, managed to turn to one side and fall over the rim of the runabout seat into the water, she dropped like a stone into the surf. The daughter jumped, but in her frantic efforts to reach her mother, she crawled under the car, and was in very great danger of being lost herself.
Suddenly the helpless form of the crippled woman rose to the surface.
Jack threw his arms about the invalid, and, after shouting for Walter to help him, as the force of the rollers threatened to take him off his feet, the two young men managed to make their way safely to the sand with the unconscious form.
Meanwhile the anxious motor girls hastened to offer what assistance they might be able to give.
“Lay her down here,” said Cora, as her brother escaped from the fury of one great, dashing mountain of water, that broke into foam as it spread out over the sand.
“I think we will have to take her into the bungalow,” he replied. “But where is Ed? Look for Ed! He has not found the girl yet!”
And indeed neither Ed nor the girl could be seen!
Cora and Bess left Belle with Jack and Walter to attend to the woman, while they again stepped forward as far into the water as it seemed safe to go.
“There is Ed!” shouted Cora, and without doing more than unclasping the leather belt that confined her waist, she struck out boldly toward a point considerably farther out than the spot where the stalled car stood in the water.
“Oh, you can’t swim—that way, Cora!” called Bess. “Cora! Cora! come back!”
But with arms over her head Cora plowed her way through the waves, stroke after stroke, until she was beside Ed, who was struggling to beat back the rollers that fought for the very life of the girl he had just brought up from under the heavy blanket of smothering water.
“Mother! Mother!” wailed the girl. “Let me get—mother. She is—down—down there!”
“No—she is—safe!” gasped Cora. “Come! Let us help you—out!”
“Oh is—she safe! I—I am all right! I—can swim!”
“But you are too weak!” called Ed. “Let us help you!”
A shriek—and the girl again disappeared.
Ed went down after her, and while Cora kept in motion to sustain herself, Ed came up with the girl again in his arms.
“Take hold!” he gasped to Cora. “She is hurt and cannot swim.”
Cora, with one well trained arm, conquered the waves, while with the other she helped support the form of the almost fainting girl, as Ed, swimming in the same way, and almost carrying the girl with his free arm, made for the shore.
Forgetting everything but the danger to her friends, Bess, too, ran into the waves to meet the swimmers.
“Go back!” shouted Ed. “If you lose your footing we can’t help you.”
Scarcely had he uttered the words than Bess stumbled and fell, head foremost, into the roller that was rushing up on the shore!
Fortunately the incoming water brought Bess in—fairly tumbling her out on the sand. The same power assisted Ed and Cora to land with the strange young girl. Meanwhile Jack and Walter had made their way to the bungalow, assisting the crippled woman.
“Oh!” shrieked Bess, scrambling to her feet. “Oh, I—am smothered!”
“So are we!” Cora managed to say. “Come, Bess. Help us revive the young lady.”
“Oh I—am—all—right now——” murmured the girl. “Only let me—get to mother!”
A sorry looking sight indeed were the motor girls—all four of them, for the strange girl should be classed with Bess, Belle and Cora, as she, too, owned a car and drove it. True she did allow it to get beyond control, and, by a sudden wrong turn of the wheel, sent it in the ocean. Still she was a motor girl for all her inexperience.
“Where are you hurt?” asked Ed, as they all stood for a moment on the beach. The strange girl was working her shoulder with evident painful effort.
“I must have injured my neck or shoulder blade when I dove under the machine,” she replied. “Something—is very stiff.”
“Let us get up to the bungalow,” suggested Cora, for the strange girl seemed like one dazed. “Your mother is there, and I hope by this time she has revived.”
Even in their discomfiture our friends could not help noticing what a pretty and pleasant mannered girl the stranger was. Every little nicety of good breeding was perfectly evident in her gentle gratitude to her rescuers, and in her earnest solicitation for her mother.
Ed led the way to the camp, while the girls followed. Belle met them at the door.
“How is she?” asked Cora, knowing how anxious was the girl about her invalid mother.
“She is quite revived,” replied Belle, “but she wants her daughter. I am so glad you have come,” hurried on Belle, without waiting for any formality. “She seems greatly worried about—Beatrice.”
“Oh, let me see her,” exclaimed the girl. “Dear, little, darling mamma,” and before the others could show the way Beatrice (for such was her name) had the crippled form clasped lovingly in her arms.
What a strange sight in the musty little bungalow! Belle was the only person who was not dripping wet—and the girls were so far from Clover Cottage, and from an auto to take them there, that there was a prospect they might dry out before fresh garments could be secured.
Beatrice looked up from the face of the trembling woman. “I wonder if we can—use the car?” she ventured. “I must get mother back to the hotel.”
“If we can get the machine out and the magneto is not short circuited from the water,” said Jack, “I don’t see why you couldn’t run it.”
“There are the life guards,” exclaimed Cora, who stood by the open door. “And they have a coil of rope.”
“Good!” declared Jack. “We will have something to pull with, and some one to help us now. Come along, boys. Girls, you will find a basket of provisions some place. There may be, in it, something of use,” and with this he ran out to the beach where like two bronzed figures the life guards stood regarding the auto in the ocean. It did not take the boys long to explain the situation, and to show what needed to be done to haul out the ocean-going car. Fastening the heavy ropes about the machine the three boys and the two men pulled—pulled—and pulled!
At first the car would not budge. Then the soft sand, in which the tires were buried, slid away some, under the urgent pressure, and finally, when the car once moved, all hands at the ropes gave a concerted pull, and the machine rolled slowly, but more and more surely, toward the edge of the shelving beach.
“Good!” exclaimed Ed. “Don’t stop! Keep it up!”
It was heavy work, but at last the auto was clear of the water.
“There!” gasped Jack, almost breathless. “That’s all to the gasolene! Now to look her over.”
Half an hour of steady work and then Ed grasped the handle and started to crank up. It was stiff at first but presently the familiar whir-r-r-r—of the motor sounded, and Walter from the seat threw in the clutch with the lever set at low speed. The magneto was all right.
The little car swung out as gracefully as if it had “never tasted salt water,” as Jack put it.
The girls were eagerly watching every move.
How thankful they were, for the woman in the bungalow had need of immediate medical attention.
In less time than it would seem possible to accomplish so much, Jack and Ed lifted the light form of the sick woman into the car, and, while Beatrice supported her mother on the right, Jack took his place at the wheel, and started off toward the hotel.
“We will send the auto back for you young ladies,” called Beatrice. “It won’t take any time to get to the hotel.”
The car once out of sight, Walter and Ed rushed into the bungalow, smashed a couple of dry boxes, and thrust them into the little stone fireplace, put a match to a bundle of paper, and then all four, who had assisted in the rescue, stood before the blaze, while steam sizzled up from the water that fell in puddles on the floor from the soaked garments.
“We did get it,” remarked Ed. “I never swam before—this way.”
“Is there anything wetter than wet clothes?” asked Cora.
“Oh, yes,” replied Bess. “I think the wettest thing I have ever found is the—bottom of the sea! Mercy, but I did think I was gone!”
“You were,” replied Walter, swishing a few drops of the too plentiful water in her eyes. “You were gone, but not forgotten, and you came back like—the famous penny!”
“Oh, you can joke!” retorted Bess. “But I tell you I was almost washed out.”
“Worse than the laundry,” teased Ed. “Well, Bess, you look a lot better. I do believe you’ve gotten thin!”
When Jack returned to the bungalow, with the rescued runabout, he was all excitement over the discovery of pretty Beatrice Blakley. He even went so far as to declare that she had confided in him the fact that she was just about to get an electric runabout, that her father was a very wealthy man, and that she was going to be at Lookout Beach all summer!
This information was detailed in such a way as to excite the possibility of jealousy in the other motor girls, particularly in Bess, who really looked upon Jack Kimball as quite a friend—one whom she could depend upon to look out for her particular pleasure, and give her all the little attentions that go to make up the sum total of a good time for the summer girl.
So the arrival upon the scene of Miss Beatrice was rather a surprise—to say the least.
“Come on, Cora,” called Jack, after he had given a particularly enthusiastic description of Beatrice’s wonderful management of her sick mother, “I promised you would go to the hotel this afternoon to see how Mrs. Blakley is, and to find out if they need anything before Mr. Blakley gets down from town.”
“Of course I’ll go,” replied Cora, with a sly smile. “Belle and I, or Bess and I will call, certainly.”
“Well, get in the machine, you three, and we boys will get ourselves dried out. You may keep the runabout at the Clover until you are ready to go over in the afternoon. Then I’ll drive you.”
This assertion caused every one to laugh at Jack. The idea of his driving two motor girls! As if they couldn’t manage a little car like that!
“Well, we will see,” said Cora, as she, Bess, and Belle climbed into the car, which held three comfortably. “Perhaps if you are very good we may take you along. Or you may——”
“I say, fellows!” interrupted Ed. “I thought we were going to see that excursion come in from Chelton this afternoon. Some of our boys are coming down.”
“Of course,” added Walter. “Jack, you don’t call on B—— this afternoon. Make it some other time. We are going down to the pier to see the folks from home, and in the meantime, we’ve got a lot to do to get this camp pitched. And you are cook for the first week. Don’t forget that.”
“Oh, all right,” assented Jack. “Of course, if you all insist. Perhaps I can live!” and he sighed dramatically.
Two hours later the motor girls and the boys, all refreshed in correct summer garb, without any evidence of their morning’s experience, waited on the pier, while the big excursion boat Columbia sailed in, her colors flying gaily, and the hands and hats of seemingly every youth in Chelton, waving over the deck rails, as the annual summer outing of Lincoln County put in to port at Lookout Beach.
Hazel and Paul were with the Kimballs and Robinsons, so that all our friends from Chelton united in welcoming the excursionists.
“There’s Fred!” called Jack, the first to discover a familiar face in the big crowd.
“And there’s Ben,” added Ed. “As if Fred Bennet could travel without Ben Fredericks.”
“Clear the way there, please,” ordered the boatman. “We must have room for the gangplank—that’s a big crowd.”
The girls left the inside aisle, and slipped under the rail to the outer walk of the pier, but the boys held to their place. They insisted upon seeing the people land, and it was no little fun to be real sojourners at the popular watering place, when so many other boys and girls have to be content to visit the beach for a single day.
“Oh, there’s little Nannette,” called Cora. “Jack! Jack!” she shouted, “bring Nannette over here. See! she is walking with that old man!”
Jack ducked in and out of the crowd until he reached the girl called Nannette. She was a very small creature, a cripple, and when seen by Cora, the latter immediately essayed to look after the delicate child, so that she might not suffer unnecessarily in the rush and crush of the crowd.
And Nannette was indeed glad to see Jack Kimball. The young man almost carried her to Cora, for Nannette was a general favorite in the village—one of those human buds that never blossom, but always stay in the childhood of promise—unconscious of time and unmindful of method.
“Oh, we are so glad you came down,” exclaimed Cora, embracing the child. “You will have a lovely day. Are you tired? Did you enjoy the sail?”
But before she could answer the other girls plied similar questions, until the little one was fairly besieged with kind attention.
“Hello there!” shouted some one. “Where are the boys?”
“Brownson McLarin!” exclaimed Bess, with a slight blush. “I wonder——”
“If Teddy is with him,” finished Belle, with a meaning nod to Cora. “Now, if Teddy is here, we may all depend upon Bess for a good time. Teddy would rather spend money on Bess than eat a shore dinner.”
“Land o’ Goshen!” shouted Jack. “Look—at—Andy!”
The girls turned to see what he indicated. And sure enough, there was little Andy from Squaton, but so dressed up and displaying such a physical “shine,” that his friends from Chelton would scarcely have recognized him had not Jack pointed him out.
“Fetch him over here,” begged Cora.
“Say, Cora,” replied Jack, “would you like me to pull in the whole crowd, and let you take your pick? Seems to me you want every one you see,” but at the same time he “reached” little Andy, and led him over to the rail, behind which the motor girls were sequestered.
Andy was delighted to see Cora. He was brimming over with news—but it did not take him long to whisper that he had something “special” to tell her, as soon as she could give him a few minutes all alone.
“What’s it about?” asked Cora eagerly.
“About the ‘sparklers,’” replied the lad. “We got them, and me mother got the hundred!”
“The diamond earrings have been found!” exclaimed Cora, startled at such a surprising piece of news.
“Yep, they’re found, all right,” replied Andy. “What do you think of me suit? And I’ve got more home. We got the reward.”
“Who got it,” demanded Cora.
“Me—I—we,” stammered Andy, somewhat confused in his grammar.
“Where did you find them?” persisted Cora.
“Hey, there, Andy!” yelled a boy in a very shabby outfit. “Where’s all that ‘dough’ you was telling us about? Come on. It’s up to you,” and, before Cora could get an answer from the little redheaded boy, he was gone.
As he sauntered off, with his companions, Cora saw that he was counting money—considerable money, too, it seemed to her.
Bess and Belle were busy talking to Nannette. They had not noticed Andy. The excursionists were now almost all landed.
The news so suddenly divulged by Andy confused Cora.
What did he mean by getting the reward? Of course the diamond earrings must have been found—he said that distinctly enough, but had they been hidden by the orphan girls, as was the case which contained the gems?
“Cora,” called Belle, “Nannette is hungry. Come up to the candy kitchen, and we will show her how they make salt water taffy.”
“All right,” replied Cora. “Of course you must be hungry, Nannette, you had to leave home so early.”
It was difficult to make their way through the steady stream of people that poured up the long pier. Cora walked ahead, while Bell and Bess, on either side, protected the deformed child.
“Oh, I can smell the taffy!” exclaimed the girl, as they neared the candy kitchen.
“Yes, so can I,” agreed Cora. “It would almost make one hungry.”
They were now in front of the store with the big glass windows. Through this glass could be seen the workers in the exhibition kitchen. There were a few girls in white aprons, and high white caps, doing up pieces of “taffy” in papers, and working beside them were two men, also clad in white linen. The men were popping corn over a gas stove.
“Look,” said Belle. “That is how they make it. Stand here a moment and watch.”
The girls drew up in front of the window. As they stopped two men from the excursion boat also paused to observe the candy makers.
Cora turned and looked at the men. A remark one made about “runaways” had attracted her attention.
“Oh!” she suddenly gasped. Then she clutched Belle’s arm.
“Come on,” she whispered. “I don’t care to stand here.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Bess, noting the change in Cora’s face.
“Those are—the detectives,” she whispered. “I don’t want to get in conversation with them. Come on.”
But both men were looking directly at Cora. She felt it was too late for her to try to escape their scrutiny.
“Look! Look!” exclaimed Bess. “There are——”
But at that instant two girls behind the glass window in the candy kitchen came forward with their trays of freshly-made candy. Both girls looked through the window—directly at Cora and at the others with her.
“Nellie and Rose!” exclaimed Belle.
“Oh!” gasped Cora, “if I only could tell them the diamonds are found!”
For a single instant the two girls in the caps and aprons stood like statues. Then they evidently saw the two men who stood directly back of Cora.
With a scream that penetrated the distance and the glass windows, the two unfortunate girls dropped their trays on the counter, and dashed out of the store into the kitchen, showing fright and terror as they ran.
“They saw the detectives,” declared Cora. “Oh, I must reach them! But in this crowd!”
Some one tapped Cora on the shoulder.
It was one of the Squaton detectives.
“Oh, Rose! I can’t go another step! Let them catch us if they want to. I think I—a—am going to—die!”
“Nellie dear, try to keep up. We will be at the station soon. And you know those were detectives from home! Oh, try to keep on!”
“I—can’t! I’ve got to stop!”
The girl sank in the sand like the poor, tired, frightened little thing that she was. Rose put her arms round her sister, and her tears fell on the sunburned cheek that lay so helpless there, supported only by an arm equally sunburned, and equally exhausted.
“Oh, we will surely be caught,” moaned Rose. “Don’t you think, when you rest awhile, you can go on, Nellie, dear? You were always so brave, and so strong.”
“We have got to stop some time, Rose. Why should we go on like this? I am almost dead for sleep, and I feel as if I could go to sleep right here.”
Rose kissed the sad little face, and brushed back the rudely cropped hair, that lay in ringlets on Nellie’s head. “It has been awfully hard, little sister,” she said; “perhaps we had better give up and go back!”
The words seemed to startle the child, who lay on the sand. Instantly she sat bolt upright.
“Go back!” she repeated. “To that place! We might better die here!”
“Then why should we not see the detectives, and tell them all about it? Surely Aunt Delia will not be allowed——”
“But she has been allowed,” insisted Nellie. “Hasn’t she treated us badly for years? And who was there to stop her? Who is there to stop her now?”
“Perhaps those young ladies could help us,” sobbed Rose. “We may have done wrong to run away from them.”
“I did like that dark girl,” assented Nellie, rubbing her aching eyes, “and she did say she would see us again.”
The two sisters were on an isolated patch of the beach and had been trying to make their way to the railroad station. In taking this sandy walk they had avoided the regular traffic path, but the heavy traveling had been too much for the younger one, who was plainly beginning to feel, and show, the signs of her perilous adventure since the day when she ran away from the strawberry patch of Squaton. It was late in the afternoon, almost dusk, but the happy shouts of the excursionists could be heard for a mile along the beach. Here and there groups of boys who had left the crowds were to be seen digging holes in the sand, and capering about with all their energy, to have their very best fun in that one last hour allowed before the big boat would sail away, and carry them off home again.
“There come some boys,” said Rose. “Try to stand up, they will be sure to stop and gawk at us.”
Nellie sat up, but made no effort to stand. Presently the three boys came romping along.
As Rose had guessed, they did stop and look at the girls; stared at them not rudely but in wonderment, for Nellie and Rose were too far away from merrymakers to be mistaken for members of the excursion party.
“Oh!” exclaimed Nellie, catching sight of one of the boys.
“Well, I never!” gasped the boy at the same moment. “If there ain’t Nellie and Rose!”
“Oh, Andy!” cried Nellie, “do come and talk to us. We are not afraid to trust you. Don’t say who we are—don’t mention our names!”
The little fellow did not need to be cautioned. Neither did he wait for the invitation to talk to the lonely girls.
“Wherever have you been?” he asked. “Have you heard the news?”
“We haven’t heard any good news,” replied Rose sadly.
“Then I’ve got some fer you,” said the lad, shaking his manly little head. “The diamonds is found and I got the boodle!”
“Oh!” gasped Nellie. “Found! Then we—won’t have to hide any more. Where did you find them?”
The whistle of the excursion boat checked the boy’s eager talk.
“Come on!” shouted the other lads to Andy. “If you don’t hustle, you’ll get left!”
“Well, then I will get left,” declared Andy. “I’m going to stay right here with these girls—they’re friends of mine.”
“Oh, no, Andy, don’t,” begged Rose. “Run along and catch the boat. We wouldn’t know what to do with you, if you got left. Besides your mother would be scared to death. She would think you were drowned.”
Andy hesitated.
“Do go,” put in Nellie, jumping up and throwing her arms about the boy. “I could just hug you to death, you have made us so happy. And you—look—just fine!”
“Run!” shouted the boys, as the whistle blew. “That’s the last call!”
“Run!” called Rose.
“Yes, do run!” pleaded Nellie.
Turning to give the girls a look so full of meaning that even Andy’s bright eyes seemed overtaxed with the responsibility, the boy did run as fast as his legs could carry him.
“I’m afraid they will miss it,” murmured Rose, as the two sisters, now so changed in expression, watched the boys make their way through the sand.
“Oh, Rose! Aren’t you happy!” exclaimed Nellie. “Now we can do as we please.”
“But Aunt Delia might send us to the reform school for running away,” mused the older girl.
“Oh, I can’t think she would do that!”
“But think of all she has done! I am afraid to trust her.”
The tooting of the excursion boat could be heard as the vessel steamed out. Wistfully the girls looked over the broad expanse of water, out to the track made by the smoke from the Columbia.
“We might have gone back home,” sighed Nellie.
“I would rather stay here—I feel we have some friends. Those girls——”
“But why did they chase us about so?”
“They wanted to find us—perhaps. That was nothing against them.”
“Do you think the man in the candy kitchen would take us back? The detectives must have gone back on the boat, and we needn’t be afraid now.”
“Why, Nellie dear, perhaps the detectives are up at that store watching for us. We can’t go there unless we want to——”
“Where can we go?” cried the child. “Oh, dear me! What a dreadful thing it is—to be orphans!” and she began to cry.
“There’s no use crying,” said Rose, although her own eyes were brimful. “We have got to go somewhere for the night.”
“Let’s go to the cottage—to the automobile girls’ cottage.”
“I am able to work, and I want to work,” insisted Rose stoutly. “They need girls at every hotel, that young lady in the kitchen told me.”
“But I am so tired—so hungry—and so—sleepy! Rose, let us sleep right here. We are not afraid of anything now.”
“Who are those people coming?” asked Rose as a number of figures could be seen, outlined against the strip of sky that hung over the point of land.
“There’s quite a crowd,” said Nellie. “I guess we will have to walk along.”
But running ahead of the others came a boy. He was waving his cap and shouting something!
“It’s Andy!” murmured Rose. “Oh, he got left!”
“And—look there!” cried Nellie. “Those are the detectives after us! We must run! Maybe they don’t know the diamonds are found and will arrest us. I should die of shame then. We must run!”
“We can’t,” replied Rose miserably. “Oh, yes, Nellie. They have us this time,” and sinking down in the sand she clasped her hands and looked up. “Let us ask—mother in heaven—to take care of us!” she said reverently. Then they waited until the detectives came along.
“Rose! Nellie!” shouted Andy. “Get up! What’s the matter?”
The girls raised their eyes and saw before them not only the detectives but Jack and Cora Kimball, also Ed Foster.
“Come, girls,” began the taller of the two officers from Squaton. “You seem to be having a pretty hard time of it. What are you crying for?”
“Oh, we didn’t take the earrings!” sobbed Nellie. “And we don’t want—to go—to the reform school!”
“Who said you did take them?” inquired the officer, as Cora put her arm about Nellie, and assisted her to rise. “And who said you were to go to the reform school?”
“That piece in the paper,” replied Rose. “It said we would be sent there until——”
“Oh, that was some of the old lady’s work. Don’t you worry about that. Just come along with us. Don’t you be afraid that any one is going to hurt you,” for he saw distrust in Rose’s face. “You are among friends—all friends!”
“You bet!” cried Andy. “I got left from the boat just in time to tell them where you were.”
“Come along,” said Jack kindly. “You both look ready to—collapse.”
“I was just going to,” declared Nellie, rubbing her hand over her inflamed eyes. “I was going to jump into the water before Rose could stop me, but when she called our mother to help us I—couldn’t—then.”
“Nellie!” exclaimed Rose in surprise.
“Now do come along,” begged Cora. “You must need food and rest. I am almost dead myself from running around——”
“After us?” asked Nellie innocently.
The officer and young men smiled.
“Well, you see,” began Jack, “we just caught Andy ‘getting left,’ as he put it, and he told us where you were——”
“But Andy’s mother will be scared to death,” insisted Nellie, brightening up.
“Oh, we have attended to that,” said Jack. “We sent her a message. Andy is going to visit us ‘bungaloafers’ for a few days. We just need a boy like Andy to help us get in shape,” and Jack patted the smiling boy kindly.
“Our cars are out on the road,” said Cora, “and we are all to go to the cottage. So, come on, girls. We are just dying to tell your odd story to several people. Your friends in the candy kitchen have been dreadfully worried since you left them so suddenly.”
“They thought you jumped in the ocean,” blurted out Andy, who had no regard for propriety in making such remarks.
The orphans acted almost frightened—it seemed too strange to be true, that they were going to get in an automobile, and be allowed to go to a house without being hunted and chased—without hiding or sneaking!
“Here we are,” announced Ed, who cranked up one car into which Andy “piled” without any ceremony whatever.
Jack started up the Whirlwind, and into the big car Nellie and Rose were assisted. Cora sat beside Jack, and the detective insisted upon walking as he had “to meet a man” on the road and had scarcely time to keep this appointment.
Nellie was completely dazed. She sat bolt upright, as if afraid to lean against the soft cushions of the car.
Rose was more composed, but she also appeared ill at ease in the luxurious surroundings.
It was only a short ride to Clover Cottage. Bess and Belle were outside as they drove up. They clapped their hands almost like children when they saw who were in the cars.
“Oh, you have found them!” exclaimed Belle. “Come right in. We have tea all ready, and you are not to speak one word until you are refreshed,” and she grasped Nellie’s hand, and gave Rose a most welcome greeting.
Andy was loath to leave the car. He wanted to start it, to stop it, and to do all sorts of things with the interesting machine. Finally, when Rose and Nellie had been refreshed, Bess and Belle provided seats for all on the broad porch, just as the detective and a strange man turned around the corner and they, too, joined the happy group.
“This is a reporter for the daily paper,” said the detective. “I thought it best to have him come right down now, and get this thing all straight. It will be best to tell the story from the start, and so clear up the false impressions about the girls.”
The newspaper man took out a pad of paper and a pencil in the most businesslike way, without presuming on any personal privilege, such as an introduction, or a word of acknowledgment, for the detective’s rather flattering account of the scribe’s ability.
“Perhaps I had better ask you a few questions,” the reporter began simply, turning to Rose. “Why did you run away from Mrs. Ramsy’s house?”
“Because she was unjust to us,” replied Rose. “She had never treated us decently, but when she took the very last thing we owned of our dead mother’s—her wedding ring—we just took the little case it had been in, put it in a crate of berries we left under the tree for this young lady, and then—we went away.”
“Where did you get that jewel case?” asked the tall detective, who seemed to be doing the most of the talking.
“We found it in Miss Schenk’s scrap basket. She told us to throw out everything in the basket, and so, when we found the little leather case we decided it would be nice to keep mamma’s ring in.”
“And that was how you got the case!” Cora could not help exclaiming.
“Yes. Why?” asked Nellie in surprise.
“Oh, nothing. Go on,” said the detective.
“Then I found the card with the address of this house,” continued Rose. “We intended to come down this way to work for the summer, and we knew that this house was vacant. That is how we came to sleep here one night.”
“That’s the card I picked up under the window,” interrupted Andy, to whom the whole proceedings seemed as “thrilling as could be any professional theatrical performance.”
“Then,” Nellie helped out, “we slept one dreadful night in an old stone house. And it was haunted.”
“That was the house by the spring,” volunteered Jack, “where we found the hat, and other things.”
“Yes,” said Nellie, “we did leave some things there.”
“And I found your dress away out on the road one night, very late,” Bess put in, while the newspaper man smiled at the queer story with so many “personal contributions.”
“Oh, yes! We were waiting for a trolley car, and we heard an automobile coming. Then I had to throw away a bundle—I didn’t want to take it along with me. I thought Aunt Delia might describe our clothes.”
“You got along pretty well for amateurs,” remarked the detective with a laugh. “Some experts might have done worse.”
“Then you came straight to Lookout Beach?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, no,” answered Nellie. “We had to work our way down. First we went to work at the Wayside Inn.”
“Now, I want to speak,” announced Jack with a comical gesture. “I would like to know whose shadow it was I was chasing one night around the Wayside? I never had such an illusionary race before in all my life. I came near concluding that my mind was haunted.”
Nellie laughed outright. “Oh, wasn’t that funny!” she exclaimed. “I was trying to hide something, and you were trying to see who I was. I thought I would never get away from you, but I did fool you, after all.”
“That’s right,” admitted Jack. “But you left me a lock of your hair.”
Nellie blushed to her ear tips. Rose frowned, and shook her head to call her sister’s attention to the man who was taking notes.
“Where does my story come in?” demanded Andy. “I had a part in this show.”
“Oh, we are coming to you,” replied the reporter. “Seems to me this will make a serial. It’s a first-rate story, all right.”
“Don’t say anything about the graveyard,” whispered Belle to Ed. “I should hate to have that to get into print.”
“Oh, that’s another story,” replied the scribe. “We’ve got one end of that. The chauffeur declares he went after you, and spent all night in a cemetery—looking for the party he had left stalled there.”
Jack and Ed took a hand at story telling at this juncture, and it was the orphans’ turn to listen in surprise at the disclosures. Finally the boys got back to the runaways’ part in the happenings.
“Then you came to Clover Cottage?” suggested Cora, smiling at the two girls.
“Yes, we came here the first night. After that we got work in the motion picture show.”
“And was it your nose I almost burned off?” asked Ed. “I beg—your—pardon,” and he made a courtly bow to Nellie.
“Yes. That was a great trick,” said Rose. “We almost killed ourselves trying to hide that night. We managed to walk right past you, though, without your knowing us.”
“And were you the ‘carrier pigeon?’” asked Belle. “It was you, of course, who came up in the automobile, played ghost, and hung the note on the lamp?”
“Oh, yes. The manager of the show wanted us to stay on, and we felt so dreadful that Nellie told him something about our trouble. Then he said he would drive us out to the cottage if we wanted to leave a message. He wrote the note for us, and Nellie crept in and hung it where she said you would be sure to see it.”
“We saw it, all right,” commented Jack, smiling broadly.
“And so they thought we took the old earrings,” spoke up Rose indignantly.
“Well, it did look bad,” said the detective, “since you had thrown the case away.”
“As if we would steal!” snapped Nellie, her pretty eyes flashing.
“When we saw that story in the newspaper we had to run away again,” sighed Rose. “Oh, it was dreadful!”
“But I was determined from the first that I would find you,” said Jack mischievously, “and you see—I did.”
“No, I did!” burst out Andy.
“Hush there, boy! Didn’t I find you?” asked Jack.
“Well, we are found, anyhow,” commented Nellie, “and I don’t want to be lost again. But who got the earrings?”
“Me for the jig!” shouted Andy. “Now I come in. You see,” and he straightened up, and thrust his hands in his pockets as he always did when he had anything important to divulge, “I gave the young lady the card. I gave her the tip about the cops. I piped off old lady Schenk and Ramsy, and say! You ought to see them tear around Chelton when they found everybody in the game had cleared out!”
Andy stopped to laugh. The others laughed without stopping.
“And then—golly! If me mother didn’t do the old lady’s wash again just because there was a strike at the patch. And—then——She finds the sparklers tied up tight in an old rag of a handkerchief!”
“Your mother found them!” all the girls present asked in accord.
“Sure thing!” replied Andy.
“And Andy knew enough to fetch them to me,” said the detective. “That is how he came to get the hundred dollars reward!”
“Hundred dollars reward!” repeated Rose and Nellie.
“Don’t I look it?” demanded Andy, swinging around to show off to advantage his new clothes.
“You look a couple of hundred,” replied Ed. “Say, I’d like to get one like that.”
The reporter said something about not having a camera, but Andy did not hear the remark.
“And now,” resumed the detective, “what are we to do with these young ladies? We have sufficient evidence to keep them away from Mrs. Ramsy. She is not a person capable of looking after children. She has all she can do to look after the mighty dollar.”
“Oh, if you will only let us work,” pleaded Rose. “I know a lot about housework.”
“Why, we want some one right away,” said Bess. “Our maid has nervous prostration from the fright that those two dreadful Squaton women gave her the day they visited our house after going to Cora’s. Couldn’t you let Rose and Nellie stay right here, officer? We could give them both something to do.”
“They certainly can wash dishes nicely,” put in Cora, smilingly.
“Why, I don’t see what’s the objection,” said the detective. “Of course we will have to have a guardian appointed. Until then they could be placed in charge of your mother!”
Nellie opened her eyes wider than ever. Rose bit her lip to hide her confusion.
“Wouldn’t that be jolly?” said Cora. “I was sure we would be able to manage it all right. Why, you girls will have a good time, after all, at Lookout Beach!”
“You bet they will,” declared Andy. “I’m going to stay down here for a few days, and I’ve got some money to spend!”
The reporter arose to go. The detective followed his example.
“We are greatly obliged,” said the newspaper man. “I am sure this will make a fine story.”
Down the steps of the cottage went the tall detective and the reporter.
“Don’t poke fun at the poor girls,” begged Cora of the newspaper man, in a whisper. “They have suffered enough.”
“Indeed, and I intend to show up the woman responsible for them running away, rather than to make a spread about the poor things,” the reporter assured her. “Never fear, leave it to me,” and with a pleasant smile he departed.
Bess ran upstairs, where her mother was resting. So far, Mrs. Robinson had heard nothing of the ending of the quest after the runaways. Bess quickly told her the whole story, and broached her plan of having Nellie and Rose do the housework at the cottage.
“Indeed, my dear, they shall do nothing of the sort,” instantly decided Mrs. Robinson. “They shall learn some useful trade. I will see to it myself.” She felt rather flattered, than otherwise, that the fate of the orphan girls rested, somewhat, with her; and she resolved to make the most of her opportunity. The housework at Clover, she said, could be done by any or all of the motor girls.
Rose and Nellie gladly acquiesced in the plan, and thus their shadows were turned to sunshine. Arrangements were made for their board at a cottage where the crippled woman and her daughter, who had been rescued from the surf, had spent a few days. The invalid, after paying a formal call on Mrs. Robinson, to thank the young people for what they had done, went back to her home.
“Well, all’s well that ends the way it ought to,” spoke Jack Kimball that night, as they were all gathered on the Clover porch. “But those runaways certainly gave us a chase.”
“And to think how strangely it began, and how it unfolded bit by bit,” remarked Cora.
“It’s all to the——” began Bess.
“Bess!” exclaimed Belle, and Bess subsided, but muttered something under her breath that made Ed and Walter laugh.
“Well, we certainly have had exciting times at Lookout Beach,” spoke Ed, after a pause. “May there be more of them.”
“Not quite so exciting, please,” pleaded Cora. But the Motor Girls were destined to have further adventures, as will be told of in the next book of this series, to be called “The Motor Girls Through New England, Or, Held by the Gypsies.” In that volume we shall learn all about a delightful tour and of a happening to Cora Kimball that was far out of the ordinary.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” suddenly exclaimed Jack, leaping to his feet, and striking an attitude.
“Forgot what?” demanded Bess.
“The dance we are going to give at our bungalow night after to-morrow. It will be great! Mrs. Robinson, will you come and bring the girls?”
“Of course,” assented the twins’ mother.
“Then hurrah for the first dance of the bungaloafers!” cried Ed and Walter. “Long may it last, we will live in the future, and forget all the past.”
“Oh, Jack—a dance!” cried Bess. “Tell me all about it,” which Jack, nothing loath, did with much wealth of detail. And there, on the porch of Clover Cottage, while the silver moon shone over the sea, we will say good-bye, for a time, to the Motor Girls and their friends.
THE END