“They never will build a car easy enough for auntie,” Jennie Stone declared. “I tell pa he must buy some sort of airship for us——”
“Never!” cried Aunt Kate in quick denial. “Whenever I go up in the air it will be because wings have sprouted on my shoulder blades. And I should not call an aeroplane easy riding, in any case.”
“At least,” grumbled Tom, “you can spin along without any trouble with country constables, and that’s a blessing.”
For on several occasions they had had arguments with members of the police force, in one case helping to support a justice and a constable by paying a fine.
They did not travel on Sunday, however, when the constables reap most of their harvest, so they really had little to complain of in that direction. Nor did they travel fast in any case.
After the rainy days at Portsmouth, the automobile party ran on with only minor incidents and no adventures until they reached Portland. There Ruth telegraphed to Mr. Hammond that they were coming, as in her letter, written before they left Cheslow, she had promised him she would.
Herringport, the nearest town to the moving picture camp at Beach Plum Point, was at the head of a beautiful harbor, dotted with islands, and with water as blue as that of the Bay of Naples. When the two cars rolled into this old seaport the party was welcomed in person by Mr. Hammond, the president and producing manager of the Alectrion Film Corporation.
“I have engaged rooms for you at the hotel here, if you want them,” he told Ruth, after being introduced to Aunt Kate and Colonel Marchand, the only members of the party whom he had not previously met.
“But I can give you all comfortable bunks with some degree of luxury at the camp. At least, we think it luxurious after our gold mining experience in the West. You will get better cooking at the Point, too.”
“But a camp!” sighed Aunt Kate. “We have roughed it so much coming down here, Mr. Hammond.”