Preparations for the picnic were scarcely under way when the racing-car that Roger had seen in the distance came near them. There was a whirring sound as it approached, and Patty glanced up from her alcohol stove to see that it was occupied by only one man. He was slowing speed, and evidently intended to stop. Long before he had reached them, Roger had hidden his tools, and though his work on the broken belt was not completed, he busied himself with the luncheon preparations, as if that was his sole thought.
The racing-car stopped and the man who was driving it got out.
At sight of him Patty with difficulty restrained her laughter, for though their own garb was queer, it was rational compared to the appearance of this newcomer.
A racing suit is, with perhaps the exception of a diver’s costume, the most absurd-looking dress a man can get into. The stranger’s suit was of black rubber, tightly strapped at the wrists and ankles, but it was his head-gear which gave the man his weird and uncanny effect. It was a combination of mask, goggles, hood, earflaps, and neckshield which was so arranged with hinges that the noseguard and mouthpiece worked independently of each other.
At any rate, it seemed to Patty the funniest show she had ever seen, and she couldn’t help laughing. The man didn’t seem to mind, however, and after he had bowed silently for a moment or two with great enjoyment of their mystification, he pulled off his astonishing head-gear and disclosed his features.
“Dick Phelps!” exclaimed Mr. Farrington, “why, how are you, old man? I’m right down glad to see you!”
Mr. Phelps was a friend of the Farrington family, and quite naturally they invited him to lunch with them.
“Indeed I will,” said the visitor, “for I started at daybreak, and I’ve had nothing to eat since. I can’t tarry long though, as I must make New York City to-night.”
Mr. Phelps was a good-looking young man of about thirty years, and so pleased was he with Patty’s efforts in the cooking line, that he ate all the eggs she had boiled, and drank nearly all the tea, besides making serious inroads on the viands they had brought with them.
“It doesn’t matter if I do eat up all your food,” said the young man, pleasantly, “for you can stop anywhere and get more, but I mustn’t stop again until I reach the city, and I probably won’t have a chance to eat then, as I must push on to Long Island.”