"I think it is open to the public on certain days of the week," her husband replied. "And doubtless they will not object to a couple of cars, if we don't speed. There's the main entrance. Let's drive in, and if we see any one we'll ask permission to go through."
Just ahead of them was an elaborate entrance, built of gray stone and fitted with tall spiked iron gates. These were open, and, as Mr. Larue said, that might be an indication that the public was allowed to enter.
"Who lives here?" asked Margy, almost in a whisper, as they rolled between the stone posts and found themselves in a beautiful park.
"Captain Hal Mooney," Mr. Williamson answered.
"Is he in the army?" Fred inquired, while Ward said he was sure he ran an ocean liner.
"Ward is nearer right than you are, Fred," said Mr. Williamson, with a smile. "Captain Mooney is interested in boats, though not in ocean liners. He is immensely wealthy and builds and sails racing yachts."
"Just look at the flowers!" Polly cried. "Did you ever see anything like them! And the grass—I wonder who runs the lawn mower?"
There were great beds and borders of flowers on either side of the road, beautiful trees, planted singly and in groups, and acres and acres of the richest and smoothest green lawns that the children had ever seen.
"Hello, you'll have a chance to see the lawn mower, Polly," said Mr. Williamson suddenly. "And we'll ask this man whether Captain Mooney allows trespassing."