“Seven o’clock, Miss Burrows?”
“That’s about right, Danny.”
“I’ll be ready, Miss.”
So Mary Louise dismissed the matter from her thoughts and went to bed without a single misgiving.
At a little before seven next morning Irene Macfarlane was wheeled out upon the front yard nearest the driveway, happy and full of good spirits, for a day like this was a rare treat for her. A day with Mary Louise in the splendid new car, with only Mary Louise and her chauffeur for company, luncheon at Bridesville and plenty of room on the back seat was assuredly an event to be regarded with pleasure—and that’s why Mary Louise had chosen her for comrade.
But neither the car nor the uniformed chauffeur were present. The moments rolled on until 7:30 was reached and still no sign of the automobile. Mary Louise ran around to the stables, to find both the car and Danny Dexter absent. Danny had locked the door to his tower and the front door of the stables stood wide open—just as if the young man had prepared for a long day’s trip, but all else seemed in order. There were two checkered robes belonging to the car, but these were gone, as was all else that might be needed on the trip—including the extra gasoline tank, always carried for emergencies. But Danny and car, with its fittings, had absolutely disappeared.
“Perhaps he’s gone for gasoline or oil and been delayed,” pondered Mary Louise on her way back to the side porch. “But it’s quite unlike Danny Dexter to put off such an important thing until the last moment, so I’m afraid one of the parts has broken, and Danny is waiting at the garage to have it replaced. We may as well be patient, Irene, for our fate is in Danny’s hands and I am sure he’ll get us started as soon as possible.”
“It isn’t that,” replied Irene dolefully, “but I’ve got two music lessons to give late this afternoon.”
“Oh, send them word you’re sick and have the dates changed,” suggested Mary Louise. “I’m sure that will satisfy them. And after all, Danny may be here any minute and then all our troubles will be over. As a matter of fact, Danny told me yesterday that the carburetor needed adjusting and that may be what is detaining him. So run along and have Aunt Hannah telephone your pupils.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll go and tell Aunt Hannah right away,” responded the crippled girl, “and I’ll tell her why Danny’s late, too.” She immediately wheeled her chair around and started for her home, being gone less than five minutes; but she needn’t have hurried for Danny hadn’t returned by luncheon time. Irene and Mary Louise spread their basket of lunch on the table on the side porch and had a merry time of it in spite of the missing soldier and his automobile.