Mr. Stuart went forward. “It is most kind and hospitable of you to take us in like this,” he declared. “We would certainly have been very uncomfortable if we had stayed in the boathouse for such a length of time. We are deeply grateful to you.”
“Do sit down,” the young woman answered. “And won’t you have some tea? It may warm you.” She pressed an electric bell in the wall. A man servant appeared, and she gave him her orders in German.
The “Automobile Girls” clustered together in the window seat. Their unknown hostess sank into a low chair near them. Miss Sallie and Mrs. De Lancey Smythe were left to the mercy of the old lady with the beaked nose. Maud and the count withdrew to one corner of the room, where they chatted softly, the latter bent on displaying all his powers of fascination.
“Are these your four daughters?” asked the young mistress of the villa, turning to Mr. Stuart, after a friendly glance at the “Automobile Girls.”
“No,” Mr. Stuart replied, laughing and shaking his head. “I am sorry to say I can boast of only one daughter. The three other girls are her friends. But they are all my girls. At least I call them my ‘Automobile Girls’!”
“Ah,” replied the young woman apparently puzzled. “How is it that you call them the ‘Automobile Girls’? Do young girls run motor cars in your country? Their independence is quite wonderful, I think.”
“Ruth is our chauffeur,” explained Bab, who was looking closely at the beautiful face of her hostess. The latter’s dark brown hair was arranged in a braid and wound about her head like a coronet but it broke into little soft curls around her face. She had a small straight nose and the curve of her red lips was perfect. The coutour of her face was oval and her large dark eyes were touched with an undefinable sadness. She was tall and slender, and she wore a plain, white woolen frock that emphasized the lines of her graceful figure. The simplicity of her costume was not marred by a single ornament. Even her long, slender fingers were bare of rings.
She turned to pretty Mollie, taking one of her small hands in her own cool fingers. “Do these little hands also run a motor car?” the hostess asked.
Mollie looked long into the beautiful face. Somehow its hidden sadness touched her. Mollie’s blue eyes filled with tears. She felt strangely timid.
“Why, you must not be afraid of me, dear one,” said the young woman. She gazed into Mollie’s blue eyes appealingly, and softly pressed her hand. “I’m a girl like yourself, only I am much older. But I love younger girls very dearly. You must let me be your friend.” To the amazement of the other girls this exquisite stranger bent over and kissed Mollie on the lips.