The Automobile Girls At Washington by Laura Dent Crane
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Laura Dent Crane >> The Automobile Girls At Washington
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"I shall be careful," Peter returned easily. "My attentions are directed
toward the other sister. How have you managed to keep that big boy of
yours so much in the dark about--oh, a number of things?" finished Peter.
"It is because Elmer has perfect faith in me, Peter," Mrs. Wilson
answered, passing her hand over her eyes to hide their expression.
"As all other men have had before him, my lady," Peter avowed. "Is it
true that Mr. William Hamlin is now a worshiper at your shrine?"
"Absurd!" protested Mrs. Wilson. "Here comes Elmer."
"Why, Peter Dillon, this is a surprise!" exclaimed the young lieutenant,
walking into the room in search of his mother. "I never knew Mother to
get up so early before. I have just been inquiring of your maid, Mother,
to know what had become of you. Harriet Hamlin wants you to chaperon us
on an automobile ride out to Mt. Vernon and along the Potomac River.
Charlie Meyers is giving the party, and Harriet thinks her father won't
object if you will go along to look after us. That Charlie Meyers is an
awful bounder! But Harriet wants to show her little Yankee visitors the
sights. Do come along with us, Mother. For I have a fancy I should like
to stroll through the old Washington garden with 'sweet sixteen.'"
"I will chaperon you with pleasure, Elmer," Mrs. Wilson agreed. "But what
about you, Peter? Are you not invited?"
Peter looked chagrined.
"No; I am not invited, and I call it unkind of Harriet. She knows I am
dreadfully impressed with the 'Automobile Girls.'"
Mrs. Wilson and Elmer both laughed provokingly. "That is just what's the
trouble with you, Peter. Harriet is accustomed to your devotion to her.
Now that you have turned your thoughts in another direction, she may look
upon you as a faithless swain," Mrs. Wilson teased.
"Don't undertake more than you can manage, Peter," teased Elmer Wilson.
"That is good advice for Peter. Remember, Peter, I have warned you. Some
day you will run across a girl who is cleverer than you are. Then look
out, young man," Mrs. Wilson repeated.
But Peter only laughed cheerfully. "What girl isn't cleverer than a man?"
he protested. "_Au revoir_. I shall do my best to persuade Harriet to
let me go along with her party this afternoon. I suppose we shall be
starting soon after luncheon, as it is Saturday."
"Mother, can you let me have some money?" Elmer asked, as soon as Peter
was out of hearing. "I am ashamed to ask you for it. But going out in
society does cost a fellow an awful lot."
Mrs. Wilson shook her head. "I am sorry, Boy; I can't let you have
anything just now. I am short of money myself at present. But I expect to
have some money coming in, say in about two weeks, or even ten days. Then
I can let you have what you like."
* * * * *
"How shall we divide our party for the motor ride, Ruth?" asked Harriet
Hamlin about two o'clock on the afternoon of the same day.
Ruth's red car was standing in front of Mr. Hamlin's door with another
larger one belonging to Harriet's friend, Charlie Meyers, waiting
behind it.
The automobile party stood out on the side walk and Peter Dillon had
somehow managed to be one of them.
"Suppose, Barbara, Grace and Hugh Post go along with me, Harriet?" Ruth
proposed. "Mr. Meyers' car is larger than mine. He can take the rest of
the party."
"What a division!" protested Peter Dillon, as he climbed into Ruth's
automobile and took his seat next Bab. "Do you suppose, for one instant,
that we are going to see Hugh Post drive off, the only man among three
girls? Not if I can help it!"
The two automobiles traveled swiftly through Washington allowing the four
"Automobile Girls" only tantalizing glimpses of the executive buildings
which they passed on the way.
In about an hour the cars covered the sixteen miles that lay between the
Capital City and the home of its first President.
Such a deep and abiding tranquillity pervaded the atmosphere of Mt.
Vernon that the noisy chatter of the young people was, for an instant,
hushed into silence, as they drove through the great iron gates at the
entrance to Mt. Vernon, and on up the elm-shaded lawn to the house.
Although it was December, the fall had been unusually warm and the trees
were not yet bare of their autumn foliage; the grass still looked smooth
and green under foot.
The "Automobile Girls" held their breath as their eyes rested on the most
famous historic home in America.
"Oh, Ruth!" exclaimed Bab. But when she saw Peter's eyes smiling at her
enthusiasm she stopped and would not say another word.
Of course, Mt. Vernon was an old story to Mrs. Wilson, to Harriet, and
indeed to the entire party, except the four girls. But they wished to see
every detail of the Washington house. They went into the wide hall and
there beheld the key to the Bastile presented by Lafayette to General
Washington. They examined the music room, with its queer, old-fashioned
musical instruments; went up to Martha Washington's bedroom and even
looked upon the white-canopied bed where George Washington died. Indeed,
they wandered from garret to cellar in the old house. But it was a
beautiful afternoon and the outdoors called them at last.
And, after all, it is the outdoors at Mt. Vernon that is most beautiful.
The house is a simple country home with a wide, old-fashioned portico and
gallery built of frame and painted to look like stone.
But there is no palace on the Rhine, no castle in Spain, that has a more
beautiful natural situation than Mt. Vernon. It stands on a piece of
gently swelling land that slopes gradually down to the Potomac, and
commands a view of many miles of the broad and noble river.
Bab and Ruth managed to get away from the rest of their party and to slip
out on the wide colonnaded veranda.
"How peaceful and beautiful it is out here," Ruth exclaimed, with her
arm around her friend's waist. "It seems to me that, if I lived in
Washington, I would just run out here whenever anything uncomfortable
happened to me. I am sure, if I spent the day at Mt. Vernon, I should not
feel trouble any more."
Barbara stood silent. A vague premonition of some possible trouble
overtook her.
"Ruth," Bab asked suddenly, "do you like Harriet's friend, Peter Dillon?
Every now and then he talks to me in the most mysterious fashion. I don't
understand what he means."
Ruth looked unusually grave. Then she answered Bab in a very curious
tone. "I know you have lots of common sense, Bab, dear," Ruth began. "But
promise me you won't put any special faith in Peter Dillon. He is not one
bit like Hugh, or Ralph Ewing, or the boys we met at the Major's house
party. When I meet any one who is such a favorite with everyone I always
wonder whether he has any real feelings or whether he is trying to
accomplish some end. I suppose Peter Dillon can't help striving to be
agreeable to everyone."
Bab laughed a little. "Why, Ruth," she protested, "that idea does not
sound a bit like you. You are sweet to everyone yourself, dear, and
everyone loves you. But I do know what you mean about Peter Dillon. I--"
"Hello," cried Mollie's sweet voice. She waved a long blue scarf
toward Ruth and Bab. Mollie and Elmer Wilson were standing on the
lawn, examining the motto on the sun dial. It read, "I record none but
sunny hours."
"Let me write down that motto for you, Miss Thurston," Elmer Wilson
suggested. "I hope you may follow the old sun dial's example and record
none but sunny hours yourself."
"Ruth!" called Hugh, coming around from the other side of the porch with
Peter Dillon. "Well, here you are, at last! It is not fair for you two
girls to run off together like this. Harriet has disappeared, and Mrs.
Wilson is hiding somewhere. Do you remember, Ruth, you promised to go
with me to see the old Washington deer park. It has just been restocked
with deer. Won't you come, too, Bab?"
Barbara shook her head as Hugh and Ruth walked off together. Bab felt
sure that Hugh would like to have a chance to talk with Ruth alone,
for they had never ceased to be intimate friends since the early days
at Newport.
Peter Dillon stood looking out at the river, whistling softly, "Kathleen
Mavourneen." It was the song Barbara had first heard him whistle in the
drawing-room of Mr. Hamlin's house. The young man said nothing, for a few
moments, even when he and Bab were alone. But when Bab came over toward
him, Peter smiled. He had his hat off and he had run his hands through
his dark auburn hair.
"I say, Miss Thurston, why can't you make up your mind to like me?" he
questioned. "Surely you don't suspect me of dark designs, do you? You
American people are so strange. Just because I am half a Russian you
think I have some sinister purpose in my mind. I am not an anarchist,
and I don't want to go about trampling on the poor. I wish you could
meet the Russian ambassador. He is about the most splendid-looking man
you ever saw. I know him, well, you see, because my mother was a distant
cousin of his."
Barbara laughed good-humoredly. "You seem to be a kind of connecting link
between three or four nations--Russia, America, China. What are your real
duties at your legation?"
Barbara looked at her companion with a real question in her brown eyes--a
question she truly desired to have answered. She was interested to know
what duties an attache performed for his embassy. Peter, in spite of his
frivolities, claimed to be a hard worker.
"You have not seen the loveliest part of Mt. Vernon yet, Miss Thurston,"
Peter Dillon interposed just at this instant. "I want to show you the old
garden, and we must hurry before the gates are closed. Yes; I know I did
not answer your question. An attache just makes himself generally useful
to his chief. But if you really want to know what my ambition is, and how
I work to achieve it, why some day I will tell you." Peter looked at Bab
so seriously that she answered quickly:
"Yes, I should dearly love to see the garden."
Bab and Peter Dillon wandered together through the paths formed by the
box hedges planted in Martha Washington's garden more than a century ago.
Neither seemed to feel like talking. The young man had seen the gardener
as they entered the enclosure, and had persuaded him to allow them to go
through the lovely spot alone.
Bab's vivid imagination brought to life the old colonial ladies who had
once wandered in this famous garden. She saw their white wigs, their
powder and patches and full skirts. So Bab forgot all about her
companion.
Suddenly she heard Peter give a slight exclamation. They had both come to
the end of the garden walk. There before them stood a great rose tree.
Blooming in the unusually warm sunshine were two rose-buds, gently tipped
with frost.
"Ah, Miss Thurston, how glad I am we found the garden first!" Peter
cried. "This is the famous Mary Washington rose, which Washington
planted here in his garden, and named in honor of his mother. Wait here
until I find the gardener. I am going to make him let us have these two
tiny rose-buds."
"How nice Peter Dillon really is," Bab thought. "Ruth was mistaken in
warning me against him. Of course, he does not show on the surface what
he actually feels. But perhaps I shall find out he is a finer fellow than
we think he is. Mr. Hamlin says Harriet is wrong in believing Peter is
never in earnest about anything."
"It's all right, Miss Thurston," called Peter, returning in a few minutes
with his eyes shining. "The gardener says we may have the roses." The
young fellow dropped down on his knees before the rose bush without a bit
of affectation or self-consciousness. He skilfully cut the two half faded
rose-buds from the stalk and handed one to Barbara.
"Keep this, Miss Thurston," he said earnestly. "And if ever you should
wish me to do you a favor, just send the flower to me and I shall perform
whatever task you set me to do to the best of my skill." Peter looked at
his own rose. "May I keep my rose-bud for the same purpose?" he begged
quietly. "Perhaps I shall send my flower to you some day and ask you to
do me a service. Will you do it for me?"
"Yes, Mr. Dillon, I will do you any favor that I can," Bab returned
steadily. "But I don't make rash promises in the dark. And I have very
little opportunity to do people favors. You make me think of the
newspaper girl, Marjorie Moore. She tried to force me into a promise
without letting me know what she wanted, the first day I saw her. Does
everyone try to get some one to do something for him in Washington?"
At the mention of Marjorie Moore's name the change in Peter Dillon's face
was so startling that Barbara was startled. Just now he did not look in
the least like an Irishman. His lips tightened into a fine, cruel line,
his eyes grew almost black and had a queer, Chinese slant to them. It
suddenly dawned on Barbara, that Russians have Asiatic blood in their
veins and are often more like Oriental people than they are like those of
the western world.
But Peter only said carelessly, after he had regained control of his
face: "Miss Moore doesn't like me; and frankly, I don't like her. She
told you she did society work for her newspaper. She does a great deal
more. She is constantly watching at the legations to see if she can spy
on any of their secret information. It is not good form to warn one girl
against another. But if I were you, Miss Thurston, I would take with a
grain of salt any information that Miss Moore might give you."
Barbara answered quietly: "Oh, I don't suppose Miss Moore will tell me
any of her secrets. She does not come to Mr. Hamlin's except on business.
Harriet does not like her."
"Good for Harriet!" Peter muttered to himself. "It may be Harriet,
after all!"
"Barbara Thurston, you and Peter come along this minute," Harriet ordered
unexpectedly. "Don't you know we shall be locked up in Mt. Vernon if we
stay here much longer. Ruth's automobile is already filled and she is
waiting to start. You and Peter are to get into Mr. Meyers' car with me.
We have another hour before sunset. We are going to motor along the river
and have our supper at an inn a few miles from here."
As Peter Dillon ran ahead to join Harriet Hamlin, a small piece of paper
fell out of his pocket. Barbara picked it up and slipped it inside her
coat, intending to hand it back to Mr. Dillon as soon as she had an
opportunity. But there were other things that seemed of more importance
to absorb her attention for the rest of the evening. And Barbara was not
to remember the paper until some time later.
CHAPTER VI
THE ARREST
After eating supper, and spending the evening at an old-fashioned
Southern Inn on the Virginia side of the Potomac River, the two
automobile parties started back to Washington.
Barbara and Peter Dillon occupied seats in the car with Harriet and Mr.
Meyers, Mrs. Wilson, and two Washington girls who had been members of
their party.
As Ruth did not know the roads it was decided that she keep to the rear
and follow the car in front of her.
It was a clear moonlight night, and, though the roads were not good, no
member of the party dreamed of trouble.
Bab sat next to Charlie Meyers, and her host was in a decidedly sulky
temper. For Harriet had grown tired of his devotion, after several hours
of it during the afternoon, and was amusing herself with Peter.
No sooner had the two cars sped away from the peaceful shadows of Mt.
Vernon, than Peter began to play Prince Charming to Harriet.
Charlie Meyers did not know what to do. He was a stupid fellow, who
expected his money to carry him through everything. He would hardly
listen to Barbara's conversation or take the slightest interest in
anything she tried to say.
Every time Harriet's gay laugh rang out from the next seat Charlie Meyers
would drive his car faster than ever, until it fairly bounded over the
rough places in the road.
Several times Mrs. Wilson remonstrated with him. "You are going too fast,
Mr. Meyers. It is dark, and I am afraid we shall have an accident if you
are not more careful. Please go slower."
For an instant, Mr. Meyers would obey Mrs. Wilson's request to lessen the
speed of his car. Then he would dash ahead as though the very furies were
after him.
As for Ruth, she had to follow the automobile in front in order to find
her way, so it was necessary for her to run her car at the same high
speed. Neither Ruth nor her companions knew the pitfalls along the road.
Hugh did not keep his automobile in Washington, and, though he had a
general idea of the direction they should take, he had never driven along
the particular course selected by Mr. Meyers for their return trip.
Ruth felt her face flush with temper as her car shook and plunged along
the road. In order to keep within a reasonable distance of the heavier
car, she had to put on full power and forge blindly ahead.
Once or twice Ruth called out: "Won't you go a little slower in front,
please? I can't find my way along this road at such a swift pace."
But Ruth's voice floated back on the winds and the leading car paid no
heed to her.
Then Elmer and Hugh took up the refrain, shouting with all their lung
power. They merely wasted their breath. Charlie Meyers either did not
hear them or pretended not to do so. He never once turned his head, or
asked if those back of him were making a safe journey.
Barbara was furious. She fully realized Ruth's predicament, although she
was not in her chum's car. "Please don't get out of sight of Ruth's car,
Mr. Meyers," Bab urged her companion. But he paid not the slightest
attention to her request.
Bab looked anxiously back over the road. Now and then she could see Mr.
A. Bubble's lamps; more often Ruth's car was out of sight. Patience was
not Barbara's strong point.
"Harriet," she protested, "Won't you ask Mr. Meyers to slow down so that
Ruth can follow him. He will not pay the least attention to me."
"What is your hurry, Charlie!" asked Harriet, in a most provoking tone.
She knew the young fellow was not a gentleman, and that he was showing
his anger against her by making them all uncomfortable. But Harriet was
in a wicked humor herself, and she would not try to appease their cross
host. She was having an extremely pleasant time with Peter Dillon, and
really did not realize Ruth's difficulties.
The front car slowed imperceptibly, then hurried on again.
At about half past ten o'clock, Mr. Meyers turned into one of the narrow
old-fashioned streets of the town of Alexandria, which is just south-west
of Washington. The town was only dimly lighted and the roads made winding
turns, so that it was impossible to see any great distance ahead.
Ruth had managed to keep her car going, though she had long since lost
her sweet temper, and the others of her party were very angry.
"It serves us right," Hugh Post declared to Ruth. "We ought never to have
accepted this fellow's invitation. I knew he wasn't a gentleman, and I
know Mr. Hamlin does not wish Harriet to have anything to do with him.
Yet, just because the fellow is enormously rich and gives automobile
parties, here we have been spending the evening as his guests. Look here,
Ruth, do you think I can forget I have enjoyed his hospitality, and
punch his head for him when we get back to Washington, for leading you on
a chase like this?"
Ruth smiled and shook her head. She was seldom nervous about her
automobile after all her experiences as chauffeur. Yet this wild ride at
night through towns of which she knew little or nothing, was not exactly
her idea of sport.
Mr. Bubble was again outdistanced. As the streets were deserted, Ruth
decided to make one more violent spurt in an effort to catch up with the
front car. Poor Mr. A. Bubble who had traveled so far with his carload of
happy girls was shaking from side to side. But Ruth did not think of
danger. Alexandria is a sleepy old Southern town and nearly all its
inhabitants were in bed.
"Aren't there any speed regulations in this part of the world, Hugh?"
Ruth suddenly inquired.
But she was too late. At this instant everyone in her car heard a
loud shout.
"Hold up there! Stop!" A figure on a bicycle darted out of a dark alley
in hot pursuit of them.
"Go it, Ruth!" Hugh whispered. But Ruth shook her head.
"No," she answered. "We must face the music." Ruth put on her stop brake
and her car slowed down.
"What do you mean," cried a wrathful voice, "tearing through a peaceful
town like this, lickitty-split, as though there were no folks on earth
but you. You just come along to the station with me! You'll find out,
pretty quick, what twenty-five miles an hour means in this here town."
"Let me explain matters to you," Hugh protested. "It is all a mistake."
"I ain't never arrested anybody for speeding yet that they ain't told me
it was just a mistake," fumed the policeman. "But you will git a chance
to tell your story to the chief of police. You're just wasting good time
talkin' to me. I ain't got a mite of patience with crazy automobilists."
"Don't take us all to the station house, officer!" Hugh pleaded. "Just
take me along, and let the rest of the party go on back to Washington.
It's awfully late. You surely wouldn't keep these young ladies."
"It's the lady that's a-runnin' the car, ain't it? She's the one that is
under arrest," said the policeman obstinately.
Ruth had not spoken since her automobile was stopped.
She had a lump in her throat, caused partly by anger and partly by
embarrassment and fright. Then, too, Ruth was wondering what her father
would say. In the years she had been running her automobile, over all the
thousands of miles she had traveled, Ruth had never before been stopped
for breaking the speed laws. She had always promised Mr. Stuart to be
careful. And one cannot have followed the fortunes of Ruth Stuart and her
friends in their adventures without realizing Ruth's high and fine regard
for her word. Yet here were Ruth and her friends about to be taken to
jail for breaking the laws of the little Virginia city.
It was small wonder that Ruth found it difficult to speak.
"I will go with the policeman," she assented. "Perhaps he will let you
take Mollie and Grace on home."
Of course no one paid the slightest attention to Ruth's ridiculous
suggestion. Her friends were not very likely to leave her alone to argue
her case before the justice of the peace.
"I say, man, do be reasonable," Hugh urged. He would not give up. "You
can hold me in jail all night if you will just let the others go."
"Please don't argue with the policeman, Hugh," Ruth begged. "He is only
doing his duty. I am so sorry, Mollie darling, for you and Grace. But I
know you won't leave me."
"Oh, we don't mind," the two girls protested. "I suppose we can pay the
fine and they will let us go at once."
Hugh said nothing, for he knew that he had only a few dollars in
his pocket.
When Ruth's car finally reached the station house it was almost
eleven o'clock.
The policeman took the automobile party inside the station. It was bitter
cold in the room, for the winter chill had fallen with the close of the
December day. The fire had died out in the air-tight iron stove in the
room, and Mollie, Ruth and Grace could hardly keep from shivering.
"Well, where is the justice of the peace or whatever man we ought to see
about this wretched business?" Hugh demanded.
At last the policeman looked a little apologetic. "I'll get some one to
make up a fire for you," he answered. "I have got to go out and wake up
the justice to look after your case. It's bed-time and he's home asleep."
"Do you expect us to sit here in this freezing dirty old room half the
night while you go around looking up a magistrate?" Hugh demanded,
wrathfully.
"I told you I would have the fire built up," the policeman answered
sullenly. "But it ain't my fault you got into this trouble. You ought
not to have broken the law. We have had about as much trouble with
automobilists in this here town as we are willing to stand for. And I
might as well tell you, right now, the court will make it pretty hot for
you. It may be I can't get the justice to hear your case until to-morrow,
and you'll have to stay here all night."
"Stay here all night!" cried the five young people, as they sank down
into five hard wooden chairs in utter despair.
"Harriet, have you seen Ruth's automobile?" Bab asked, as Charlie Meyers'
car got safely out of Alexandria and started on the road toward
Washington.
Harriet and Peter both looked around and strained their eyes in the
darkness. But there was no sign of Ruth or her party.
"Don't you think we had better go back a little, Charlie?" Harriet now
suggested. "I am afraid you have gotten too far ahead of Ruth for her to
follow you."
"What has Miss Stuart got Hugh Post and Elmer Wilson with her for, if
they can't show her the way to town?" argued the impolite host of the
automobile parties.
"I think Charlie is right, Harriet. I would not worry," interposed Mrs.
Wilson, in her soft tones. "Elmer may not have known the road during the
early part of our trip, but neither one of the boys is very apt to lose
his way between Alexandria and Washington." Mrs. Wilson laughed at the
very absurdity of the idea.
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