CHAPTER IX
A DISMAYING DISCOVERY
“‘The Later Pilgrims’ are well out of that trouble,” announced Helen, when the cars were underway, the honeymoon car ahead and the other members of the party packed into the bigger automobile.
“And I hope,” she added, “that Ruth will find no more waifs and strays.”
“Don’t be knocking Ruthie all the time,” said Tom, glancing back over his shoulder. “She’s all right.”
“And you keep your eyes straight ahead, young man,” advised Aunt Kate, “or you will have this heavy car in the ditch.”
“Watch out for Henri and Heavy, too,” advised Helen. “They do not quite know what they are about and you may run them down. There! See his horizon-blue sleeve steal about her? He’s got only one hand left to steer with. Talk about a perfect thirty-six! It’s lucky Henri’s arm is phenomenally long, or he could never surround that baby!”
“I declare, Helen,” laughed Ruth. “I believe you are covetous.”
“Well, Henri is an awfully nice fellow—for a Frenchman.”
“And you are the damsel who declared you proposed to remain an old maid forever and ever and the year after.”
“I can be an old maid and still like the boys, can’t I? All the more, in fact. I sha’n’t have to be true to just one man, which, I believe, would be tedious.”
“You should live in that part of New York called Greenwich Village and wear a Russian blouse and your hair bobbed. Those are the kind of bon mots those people throw off in conversation. Light and airy persiflage, it is called,” said Tom from the front seat.
“What do you know about such people, Tommy?” demanded his sister.
“There were some co-eds of that breed I met at Cambridge. They were exponents of the ‘new freedom,’ whatever that is. Bolshevism, I guess. Freedom from both law and morals.”
“Those are not the kind of girls who are helping in France,” said Ruth soberly.
“You said it!” agreed Tom. “That sort are so busy riding hobbies over here that they have no interest in what is going on in Europe unless it may be in Russia. Well, thank heaven, there are comparatively few nuts compared with us sane folks.”
Such thoughts as these, however, did not occupy their minds for long. Just as Tom had declared, they were out for fun, and the fun could be found almost anywhere by these blithe young folk.
Ruth’s face actually changed as they journeyed on. She was both “pink and pretty,” Helen declared, before they camped at the wayside for luncheon.
The hampers on the big car were crammed with all the necessities of food and service for several meals. There were, too, twin alcohol lamps, a coffee boiler and a teapot.
Altogether they were making a very satisfactory meal and were having a jolly time at the edge of a piece of wood when a big, black wood-ant dropped down Jennie Stone’s back.
At first they did not know what the matter was with her. Her mouth was full, the food in that state of mastication that she could not immediately swallow it.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” choked the plump girl, trying to get both hands at once down the neck of her shirt-waist.
“What is the matter, Heavy?” gasped Helen.
“Jennie, dear!” murmured Ruth. “Don’t!”
“Ma chere!” gasped Henri Marchand. “Is she ill?”
“Jennie, behave yourself!” cried her aunt.
“I saw a toad swallow a hornet once,” Tom declared. “She acts just the same way.”
“As the hornet?” demanded his sister, beginning to giggle.
“As the toad,” answered Tom, gravely.
But Henri had got to his feet and now reached the wriggling girl. “Let me try to help!” he cried.
“If you even begin wiggling that way, Colonel Marchand,” declared Helen, “you will be in danger of arrest. There is a law against that dance.”
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” burst out Jennie once more, actually in danger of choking.
“What is it?” Ruth demanded, likewise reaching the writhing girl.
“Oh, he bit me!” finally exploded Jennie.
Ruth guessed what must be the trouble then, and she forced Jennie’s hands out of the neck of her waist and ran her hand down the plump girl’s back. Between them they killed the ant, for Ruth finally recovered a part of the unfortunate creature.
“But just think,” consoled Helen, “how much more awful it would have been if you had swallowed him, Heavy, instead of his wriggling down your spinal column.”
“Oh, don’t! I can feel him wriggling now,” sighed Jennie.
“That can be nothing more than his ghost,” said Tom soberly, “for Ruth retrieved at least half of the ant’s bodily presence.”
“You’ll give us all the fidgets if you keep on wriggling, Jennie,” declared Aunt Kate.
“Well, I don’t want to sit on the grass in a woodsy place again while we are on this journey,” sighed Jennie. “Ugh! I always did hate creepy things.”
“Including spiders, snakes, beetles and babies, I suppose?” laughed Helen. “Come on now. Let us clear up the wreck. Where do we camp to-night, Tommy?”
“No more camping, I pray!” squealed Jennie. “I am no Gypsy.”
“The hotel at Hampton is recommended as the real thing. They have a horse show every year at Hampton, you know. It is in the midst of a summer colony of wealthy people. It is the real thing,” Tom repeated.
They made a pleasant and long run that afternoon and arrived at the Hampton hotel in good season to dress for dinner. Jennie and her aunt met some people they knew, and naturally Jennie’s fiancé and her friends were warmly welcomed by the gay little colony.
Men at the pleasure resorts were very scarce that year, and here were two perfectly good dancers. So it was very late when the automobile party got away from the dance at the Casino.
They were late the next morning in starting on the road to Boston. Besides, there was thunder early, and Helen, having heard it rumbling, quoted:
“‘Thunder in the morning,
Sailors take warning!’”
and rolled over for another nap.
Ruth, however, at last had to get up. She was no “lie-abed” in any case, and in her present nervous state she had to be up and doing.
“But it’s going to ra-a-ain!” whined Jennie Stone when Ruth went into her room.
“You’re neither sugar nor salt,” said Ruth.
“Henri says I’m as sweet as sugar,” yawned Jennie.
“He is not responsible for what he says about you,” said her aunt briskly. “When I think of what that really nice young man is taking on his shoulders when he marries you——”
“But, Auntie!” cried Jennie, “he’s not going to try to carry me pickaback, you know.”
“Just the same, it is wrong for us to encourage him to become responsible for you, Jennie,” said her aunt. “He really should be warned.”
“Oh!” gasped the plump girl. “Let anybody dare try to get between me and my Henri——”
“Nobody can—no fear—when you are sitting with him in the front seat of that roadster of Tom’s,” said Ruth. “You fill every atom of space, Heavy.”
She went to the window and looked out again. Heavy rolled out of bed—a good deal like a barrel, her aunt said tartly.
“What is it doing outside?” yawned the plump girl.
“Well, it’s not raining. And it is a long run to Boston. We should be on our way now. The road through the hills is winding. There will be no time to stop for a Gypsy picnic.”
“Thank goodness for that!” grumbled Jennie, sitting on the floor, schoolgirl fashion, to draw on her stockings. “I’ll eat enough at breakfast hereafter to keep me alive until we reach a hotel, if you folks insist on inviting wood ants and other savage creatures of the forest to our luncheon table.”
When the party finally gathered for breakfast in the hotel dining room on this morning, it was disgracefully late. Tom had been over both cars and pronounced them fit. He had ordered the tanks filled with gasoline and had tipped one of the garage men liberally to see that this was properly done.
Afterward Captain Tom declared he would never trust a garage workman again.
“The only way to get a thing done well is to do it yourself—and a tip never bought any special service yet,” declared the angry Tom. “It is merely a form of highway robbery.”
But this was afterward. The party started off from Hampton in high fettle and with a childlike trust in the honesty of a garage attendant.
There were banks of clouds shrouding the horizon both to the west and north—the two directions from which thunder showers usually rise in this part of New England in which they were traveling. And yet the shower held off.
It was some time past noon before the thunder began to mutter again. The automobile party was then in the hilly country. Heretofore farms had been plentiful, although hamlets were few and far between.
“If it rains,” said Ruth cheerfully, “of course we can take refuge in some farmhouse.”
“Ho, for adventure among the savage natives!” cried Helen.
“I hope we shall meet nobody quite as savage as Miss Susan Timmins,” was Aunt Kate’s comment.
They ran into a deep cut between two wooded hills and there was not a house in sight. Indeed, they had not passed a farmstead on the road for the last five miles. Over the top of the wooded crest to the north curled a slate colored storm cloud, its upper edge trembling with livid lightnings. The veriest tyro of a weather prophet could see that a storm was about to break. But nobody had foretold the sudden stopping of the honeymoon car in the lead!
“What is the matter with you?” cried Helen, standing up in the tonneau of the big car, when Tom pulled up suddenly to keep from running the maroon roadster down. “Don’t you see it is going to rain? We want to get somewhere.”
“I guess we have got somewhere,” responded Jennie Stone. “As far as we are concerned, this seems to be our stopping place. The old car won’t go.”
Tom jumped out and hurried forward to join Henri in an examination of the car’s mechanism.
“What happened, Colonel?” he asked the Frenchman, worriedly.
“I have no idea, mon ami,” responded Marchand. “This is a puzzle, eh?”
“First of all, let’s put up the tops. That rain is already beating the woods on the summit of the hill.”
The two young men hurried to do this, first sheltering Jennie and then together dragging the heavy top over the big car, covering the baggage and passengers. Helen and Ruth could fasten the curtains, and soon the women of the party were snug enough. The drivers, however, had to get into rain garments and begin the work of hunting the trouble with the roadster.
The thunder grew louder and louder. Flashes of lightning streaked across the sky overhead. The electric explosions were soon so frequent and furious that the girls cowered together in real terror. Jennie had slipped out of the small car and crowded in with her chums and Aunt Kate.
“I don’t care!” she wailed, “Henri and Tom are bound to take that car all to pieces to find what has happened.”
But they did not have to go as far as that. In fact, before the rain really began to fall in earnest, Tom made the tragic discovery. There was scarcely a drop of gasoline in the tank of the small machine. Tom hurried back to the big car. He glanced at the dial of the gasoline tank. There was not enough of the fluid to take them a mile! And the emergency tank was turned on!
It was at this point that he stated his opinion of the trustworthiness of garage workmen.