The Motor Maids' School Days Read online

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  "You will simply be an outcast in West Haven, and Iadvise you to think the matter over."]

  THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS

  BY KATHERINE STOKES

  NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

  Copyright, 1911, BY HURST & COMPANY

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. "The Comet" 5 II. Friends in Need 24 III. The Musicians of Bremen 41 IV. Plots and Plans 52 V. The First Motor Picnic 63 VI. The Box of Troubles 81 VII. The Fire 95 VIII. Nancy's Home 110 IX. At the Sign of the Blue Tea Pot 128 X. Rumors at School 136 XI. Seven League Island 147 XII. The Storm 166 XIII. Wheels Within Wheels 179 XIV. The Hallowe'en House Party 193 XV. The Ghost Party 206 XVI. A Stray Ghost 217 XVII. Mrs. Ruggles 228 XVIII. Fannie Alta 241 XIX. Mary Before Her Judges 253 XX. Miss Campbell Wears Black 262 XXI. The Missing Link 271 XXII. The Refugees 280 XXIII. Belle's Confession 291 XXIV. Out of the Mists 303

  THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS

  CHAPTER I.--"THE COMET."

  "Girls, in about ten minutes you're going to have the surprise of yourlives," cried Nancy Brown, joining a group of her friends at the HighSchool gate.

  "What is it, Nancy? Do tell us, please," cried half a dozen voices atonce.

  "No, you must wait," answered Nancy. "If I told you what it was, Iwouldn't enjoy seeing your faces when the thing happened."

  "Nancy, you have always got some mystery on foot," put in her mostintimate friend, Elinor Butler. "Is this one animal, vegetable, ormineral?"

  "Fine or superfine?"

  "Can it speak?"

  "Is it as large as a house?"

  "Don't all talk at once," exclaimed Nancy. "I'll tell you this much.It's animal and it's superfine. And"--she wrinkled her brows--"and it'smineral, too, I suppose."

  "Superfine? At least it's a woman, then?" cried all the girls in achorus.

  "Yes," laughed Nancy, who loved nothing better than to excite thecuriosity of her friends to the utmost and then launch a genuinesensation into their midst.

  "Does the superfine animal wear the mineral?" demanded Elinor.

  "No, she doesn't wear it. She's in it."

  "In it? How strange," exclaimed another girl. "Perhaps it's a ladyoyster in her shell."

  "There's no surprise in an oyster unless there's a pearl in it, goosey,"teased Nancy. "But here it comes! Here it comes!" she cried, clappingher hands joyfully, while six pairs of eyes peered curiously down thestreet, which, by gentle degrees, became a country road. The trimsidewalks of the little seaport town of West Haven became grassy pathsand the pretty lawns broadened into flat green meadows.

  Far down the road a brilliant red object could be seen approaching. Itwas enveloped in a cloud of dust and it moved with great rapidity.

  "Why, it's nothing but a red automobile," cried Elinor, indisappointment.

  "Yes," admitted Nancy, "it's an automobile, but there's somethingunusual about it besides its color."

  "A girl is running it," announced Mary Price, whose clear, dark eyesalways seemed to be looking into the distance. "A girl is running it,and no one is with her, and----"

  But the motor car was now in full view. It was a graceful little machinelarge enough to hold five or six people comfortably, its body painted awarm and pleasing shade of red, its cushions upholstered in a slightlydarker shade which harmonized perfectly with the red of the body. Ayoung girl, sitting on the front seat, was running the car as easily andsteadily as an experienced chauffeur. Making a graceful curve, sheturned into the driveway which led to the school grounds and presentlydrew up under a large shed, where people were in the habit of hitchingtheir horses and vehicles on Field Day, or when football was in season.

  "Who is she?" demanded Nancy's schoolmates in a whisper.

  "Why, she's Miss Helen Campbell's cousin, Wilhelmina Campbell."

  "Do you mean our old friend, Billie?" asked Elinor.

  "The same," said Nancy, in a low voice, for Billie Campbell was nowapproaching within hearing distance. "Her mother's dead and her father'sbrought her here to live with Miss Campbell while he builds a railroadin Russia, and she's going to High School and she's in our class andshe's coming to and fro every day in her own motor car."

  Nancy was speaking as rapidly as a talking machine going at full speed.

  Billie, as her father had always called her, might have guessed that shewas the subject of all this buzzing undertone of conversation among theschool girls; but she was too well accustomed to strange faces and newplaces to feel stiff and shy now at the looks of curiosity which wereturned on her. On the contrary, the West Haven girls themselves felt alittle ill at ease and countrified in the presence of this newsophomore, who, with her father, an engineer, had lived in manycountries and seen a great deal of that mysterious outside world whichsleepy, quiet West Haven had never troubled itself much about.

  But Billie Campbell was not destined to renew her acquaintance just thenwith these childhood friends of hers. A slender, very pretty girl,beautifully dressed, hurried out of the school building and called:

  "Oh, Miss Campbell, may I speak with you a moment?"

  "We might have known it," cried Nancy Brown savagely. "If BillieCampbell hadn't owned a motor car, Belle Rogers would never have givenherself the trouble even to speak to her."

  You perhaps know what a dangerous quality snobbishness is in a girl'sschool. A very little of it is like a drop of strong poison in a pail ofwater. It pollutes the whole pail. So it was at West Haven High School.Belle Rogers, the prettiest and richest girl in town, had picked out sixmore or less wealthy and intimate friends in the sophomore class andconstituted herself leader of what they called "The Mystic Seven." Theseseven girls held themselves aloof from the poorer girls in the class andcommitted the unpardonable sin of snubbing every girl outside theircharmed circle.

  Very bitter were the feelings of the other ten sophomores against the"Mystic Seven," who refused to mingle in the sports of the class andkept themselves apart at recess, talking in low, mysterious voices andlaughing behind their pocket handkerchiefs when the other girls strolledby.

  "They always make me feel shabbier than I really am," Mary Price hadonce said.

  And now the "Mystic Seven" had snatched up this nice, athletic-looking,new sophomore, whom many of them remembered as a bright, romping littlegirl years before.

  "I suppose they'll have to call themselves 'The Mystic Eight' now," saidone of the girls, a little bitterly.
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  "Can't we ask her to join the 'Blue Birds'?" put in Elinor Butler, whowas eligible in point of wealth to enter the richer society, but hadcoldly declined the honor and had formed a society herself, called the"Blue Birds."

  "She couldn't belong to both clubs," said Nancy, "and you may be sureshe has accepted the invitation of that little golden-haired, blue-eyedBelle Rogers, who put on an extra soft pedal even to call out her name."

  "Well, Billie Campbell will probably never have cause to know thatBelle's tongue is sharper than a serpent's tooth, so what's the odds,"observed Mary Price philosophically. "We got on perfectly well beforeshe came and I suppose we can manage to support life pretty comfortablyeven if she is a member of the 'Mystic Seven.'"

  Her friends laughed, as they strolled by twos and threes into the broad,arched entrance leading into the corridor of the building. Mary Priceoften relieved their wounded feelings by ending discussions concerningthe "Mystic Seven" with a joke, although not one of them had been cutmore deeply than she herself by the cruel speeches of Belle Rogers andher friends; for, since the death of Captain Price, Mary Price and hermother, as you will see later, had had a hard struggle to make both endsmeet.

  In the meantime, Belle Rogers was using all her arts on the unsuspectingWilhelmina Campbell.

  "We have never met," she was saying, "but I heard you were going toenter our class and I wanted to be the first to welcome you."

  "Thank you," said Billie, who had a boyish, direct way of answeringpeople.

  "We wanted to know," went on Belle quickly, "if you wouldn't become amember of our society, the Mystic Seven. It is the most exclusive andnicest society in the school; the seven nicest girls in West Haven. Weare all intimate friends, you know."

  Billie gazed with admiration into Belle's lovely, childlike face. Herown hair was straight and secretly she had always admired curls. Belle'spale golden hair curled about her low forehead in soft ringlets. Hergreat china-blue eyes looked appealingly into Billie's gray ones, andher rosy lips, which were much too thin when her face was in repose,parted with a winning smile. She was dressed in blue a little darkerthan her eyes and a small blue velvet toque was perched coquettishly ontop of her curls.

  "She looks like a picture pasted inside of an old trunk mamma used tohave," said Billie to herself. "I could almost believe she was a bisquedoll. I never saw anything like her."

  "You will join us, won't you?" went on Belle wistfully.

  "I'm afraid I should be one too many and make an unlucky number. Sevenis supposed to be lucky, isn't it?"

  "Oh, we're not superstitious," laughed Belle. "We can change the name tothe 'Happy Eight,' or something of that sort. We are looking for nicegirls, and as soon as I saw you I knew you would be the one for us. Wewant to enlarge the club."

  "Dear me," said Billie thoughtfully, "in a class of seventeen girls areonly seven nice enough to be asked to join your club?"

  "Oh, they are nice enough," replied Belle. "Elinor Butler is reallyquite nice, but they are not just our sort, don't you know, and mammahas always cautioned me to be very careful about my companions."

  "Elinor Butler?" questioned Billie. "She is my old friend, and NancyBrown and Mary Price? Aren't any of them members?"

  Just then the gong for chapel boomed out in the September stillness andBelle could only shake her head for denial, as the two girls hurriedinto the building.

  "I don't think I could ever get on with that blonde doll baby," thoughtBillie, as she followed Belle into the chapel for morning prayer, whichalways opened the day at West Haven High School.

  At recess the new sophomore was quite overwhelmed by the attentions ofthe Mystic Seven. They showed her the building and the grounds, theclass locker rooms and the gymnasium, which interested her most of all.And in return she showed them her motor car. But, somehow, she did notquite like these stylish and rather over-dressed young girls. Theirconversation really bored her and she was disappointed.

  It had been her own suggestion to go to West Haven High School when herfather was summoned abroad to build a railroad.

  "I think it's high time I met some nice outdoor girls, papa," she hadsaid. "I am afraid of boarding school girls. They are so different fromyou."

  Her father had laughed joyfully over this speech.

  "I hope there's not much resemblance between me and a boarding schoolgirl, my little Billie," he said, pinching her cheek.

  And now the nice open-air girls whom she had recalled with pleasureafter a summer spent in West Haven had not come near enough even togreet her and she had been obliged to pair off with seven fashionplates.

  "It's perfectly maddening," she exclaimed to herself, giving the turf onthe campus a savage little kick. "Nancy and Elinor actually avoidmeeting my eyes as if I were some one unfit to know. I wish I hadconsented to go to boarding school, after all, instead of coming toCousin Helen. I don't want to belong to a silly society that doesnothing but have afternoon teas. I want to play basket ball and go onlong tramps with other girls and have picnics. I'm so disappointed, Icould weep aloud."

  This was the picture Billie had drawn in her mind of life at West HavenHigh School and here she was an outcast from all the good times and openair games of the class, simply because not one of her old friends wouldcome near her. She long remembered that first day at school as theloneliest and most wretched of her whole life.

  Then the last gong sounded and everybody went home except Billie, whohad an appointment with Miss Gray, the principal. After the interview,in a rebellious and disconsolate humor, homesick for her father anddisappointed with the whole world, she cranked up her red car andwhirled away toward the open country.

  As she sped along the road she passed the three friends of that summerof years ago, walking briskly away from town. They did not even look upas she whirled by and the lump in her throat grew so big that itresolved itself into a sob and two hot tears trickled down her cheeks.

  "Perhaps they're going over to the woods; just what I would have lovedto have done," wept the disappointed young girl, whose life had been alonely one in spite of her father's devotion and constant companionship.

  She was still drying her eyes when she noticed some distance ahead a manleap into the road and wave his arms violently. Billie slowed down andcame to a stop; for at the side of the road another very ill-looking manwas lying prone on his back with closed eyes and slightly parted lips.

  "What is it?" she asked. "Has your friend been hurt?"

  "No, miss," answered the man who had stopped her, "but he has walkedfifteen miles to-day and I am afraid he's about all in. I am trying toget him to his house, but I can't carry him and he can't take anotherstep."

  "Where is his house?" asked Billie.

  "Are you familiar with these parts, miss?"

  "No," she answered.

  "It's just up that lane about a mile. Only a matter of five minutes toyou."

  "Can you get him into the car?" asked Billie, noticing that this rathersinister looking stranger had only one arm; also that his right eye wasout and there was a long scar across his upper lip.

  "Easily," he replied, and without another word he expeditiouslysupported his friend to the motor car and lifted him into the back seat.

  "Poor fellow," exclaimed Billie sympathetically. "It's well I happenedalong."

  The sick man was indeed a wretched looking object, with a thin,lantern-jawed face, hollow feverish eyes and a sunken chest.Occasionally he coughed behind his hands apologetically.

  "Down the lane, did you say?" she asked.

  "Yes, miss, you can just see the house. It's the gray one up near thewoods."

  "I'll have him there in a few minutes," she answered, putting on allspeed.

  The little machine flew along the hard sandy road like a redbird on thewing. Billie occasionally glanced over her shoulder at the sick man andeach time her eyes met his, which seemed to burn like coals of fire. Shehad not liked the looks of the other man. His one remaining eye was muchtoo close to his hooked nose; but t
he sick man appealed to hersympathies. Billie's nature was not a suspicious one. She hadencountered many people in her life, and it is only people who havelived out of the world who are apt to suspect strangers.

  As she drew up the car in front of what appeared to be a very old,long-deserted fisherman's house and turned to see her passengers alight,she found the one-eyed man bending over his companion.

  "He's fainted, miss," he said. "If you'll go around back of the house tothe old well and draw up a pail of cold water, I guess we can revivehim. Just let down the pail by the wheel at the side--you'll see thehandle,--and then get a glass or pitcher or something 'round there inthe shed."

  As the man was apparently very busy loosening the neck-band of hisfriend's shirt, there seemed nothing else for Billie to do but to obeyhis directions. In fact, her sympathies were so deeply aroused that shewas more than eager to help.

  She dashed around the corner in an instant, rushed to the old well, andexerting her strength turned the handle of the rusty wheel around andaround while the rattling chain lowered the moss-covered bucket deeperand deeper until it struck the water. Waiting only until the bucket wasfilled, she began to raise it as rapidly as she could, but her muscleswere sorely tried by the stubbornness of the rusty wheel and theadditional weight of the water.

  The thought of the exhausted man spurred her on, however, and at length,flushed and perspiring, she succeeded in drawing the bucket to a littleshelf where she left it while she searched for a receptacle in which tocarry the water. She found no difficulty in pushing open a loosely-hungdoor at the end of the shed, and, after groping around a moment or twoin the semi-darkness, she discovered a battered tin pail. Hastening backwith it, she rinsed and filled it, and hurried around to the front ofthe house.

  As she turned the corner, she stopped short! Where were the two men?Where was her machine? _Where--was--her--machine?_

  Too dazed to move, Billie stood rooted to the spot while the watertrickled out of a hole in the pail and made a little pool at her feet.

  Suddenly she gasped, "They must be around the other corner. They _must_be!"

  But they were not!--and then Billie noticed the tracks in the crushedgrass that told the tale. The motor car had been turned and driven awayup the lane!

  Billie sank down on the step in front of the old house almost too spentwith her exertions and her shock to think.

  Then she flung down the pail and rushed up the lane as though she wouldtry to catch the vanished car,--but she stopped as abruptly with a halflaugh.

  "They may be miles and miles away by this time,--they had time enoughwhile I was fussing over that old well. And the chain made such a noiseand the wheel creaked so, I never heard another sound!"

  Billie's eyes filled with indignant tears as she began slowly to saunterback to the old house. She felt somehow impelled to return to the sceneof her loss, perhaps to persuade herself that it was really so.

  As she neared the spot where she had last seen her red car, she noticeda slip of paper blowing lightly about. Idly she picked it up and glancedover the words written upon it. Then she stood still and caught herbreath as she realized what they meant.

  "Stay here. Tell no one. Back soon."

  That was the message that Billie read, and she did not doubt for amoment that it was intended for her.

  "Yes, perhaps you will come back, and perhaps you won't," she said halfaloud. "Maybe you think that I think that you have gone for a doctor.But I don't. You are two mean, wicked men to outwit a girl like that.I'll never see my car again!"

  Just as Billie uttered this despairing cry, she heard a distant hail,and then another.

  "Who is coming now?" she thought. "It's too soon to expect my sick (?)passenger and his one-eyed friend, and anyway I hear no car,----noranything else, now," she added. "Maybe I imagined it. Oh, I'd like to bea man for about five minutes! Then they wouldn't _dare_!"