The Meadow-Brook Girls in the Hills Part 1

The Meadow-Brook Girls in the Hills.

by Janet Aldridge.

CHAPTER I

THE MAN WITH GREEN GOGGLES

"I hear that Ja.n.u.s Grubb is going to take a pa.s.sel of gals on a tramp over the hills," observed the postmaster, helping himself to a cracker from the grocer's barrel.

"Gals?" questioned the storekeeper.

"Yes. There's a lot of mail here for the parties, mostly postals.

Can't make much out of the postals, but some of the letters I can read through the envelopes by holding them against the window."

"Lemme have a look," urged the grocer eagerly.

"Not by a hatful. I'm an officer of the government. The secrets of the government must be guarded, I tell ye. There's six of them----"

"You don't say! Six letters?" interrupted the grocer.

"No, gals. One's name is Elting. She's what they call a chaperon.

Another is Jane McCarthy--I reckon some relation of the party who wrote me a letter asking what I knew about Jan. I reckon Jan got the job on my recommendation."

"Who are these girls, and what do they think they're goin' to do up here?"

"Call themselves 'The Meadow-Brook Gals.' Funny name, eh?" grinned the postmaster, balancing a soda cracker on the tip of his forefinger, then deftly tossing it edgewise into his open mouth. "They pay Ja.n.u.s ten dollars a week for toting them around," he chuckled. "Read it in the McCarthy party's letter to Jan."

"What are they going to do up in the hills?"

"Climb over the rocks for their health," grinned the postmaster.

"Huh! When they coming to town?"

"On the evening mail train to-day. h.e.l.lo! There's Jan now on his way to meet them. Say! Will you look at him! Jan's had his whiskers pruned. And, I swum, if he hasn't got on a new pair of boots. Git them of you?"

The storekeeper nodded.

"How much?" demanded the postmaster.

"Four seventy-three. Knocked down from five dollars. Wish I'd known he was going to draw down ten dollars a week for this job. I'd have got four seventy-five at least for the boots."

"Never mind, you can let Jan make it up on something else," comforted the postmaster. "Reckon I'll go down to the station to see the folks come in."

"I was going to ask you to look after the store while I went down,"

returned the grocer.

The postmaster decided that he wouldn't go. The other man hurried out, while the government employe helped himself not only to another handful of crackers, but to a liberal slice of cheese as well. He stood munching his crackers and cheese and gazing out reflectively into the gathering twilight, when he suddenly started and peered more keenly.

That which had attracted his attention was a stoop-shouldered man. The fellow wore a soft hat, the brim of which was slightly turned up in front, but his face was well masked by a huge pair of green automobile goggles.

"Well, I swum!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the postmaster. "If I didn't know the feller was in jail up at Concord, I'd say that was Big Charlie.

Hm-m-m. No. This one is too stooped for Charlie. Charlie's six foot two in his socks. I wonder who this fellow is?"

Even then the mail train was whistling, and the postmaster began bustling about preparing to receive the evening mail, always an event for him as well as for the villagers, who ordinarily flocked into the office, hoping to catch sight of a familiar handwriting or hear a name mentioned that would give them foundation for a bit of gossip.

It was while he was thus engaged that five young girls and a young woman some years their senior got down from a coach to the railway platform, where they stood gazing expectantly about them. The young women were dressed in tasteful blue serge suits, with hats of the same material, a sort of uniform, the villagers decided, and, had not the station platform been too dark, the eager spectators would have seen that the faces of the visitors were tanned almost to swarthiness.

"Shall I ask some one if Mr. Ja.n.u.s Grubb is here?" questioned one of the girls.

"No, wait a moment, Harriet," answered the young woman in charge of the party, "I will ask. Surely the guide should be here to meet us, since Miss McCarthy's father had arranged for it."

"You are looking for a guide, Miss?" questioned a voice at her side.

Miss Elting, the guardian of the party, glanced up inquiringly. She looked into a face of which she could see but little. The most marked feature of the face was a pair of huge green automobile goggles. These gave to the face, which she observed wore a peculiar pallor, a sinister effect, caused no doubt by the goggles.

"We are looking for Mr. Ja.n.u.s Grubb. Are you he?" she asked sharply.

The man nodded.

"This way," he said in a hurried voice.

"Come, girls," urged the guardian; "I thought Mr. Grubb would not fail us."

"And a funny looking person he is," scoffed Jane McCarthy. Her companions, Hazel Holland, Margery Brown and Grace Thompson, giggled.

Harriet Burrell plucked the sleeve of the guardian's light coat.

"I wouldn't go with him, Miss Elting," she urged.

"Why not, dear?"

"I don't like his looks. Make him take off his gla.s.ses. There is something peculiar about him."

"This way, please!" the guide's voice took on a tone of command. They had nearly reached the upper end of the platform when he issued his peremptory order. Just then a shout was heard to the rear of them. A man came running toward them.

"Hey, there!" he called. The girls halted. "Are you the Meadow-Brook Gals?"

"Yes, sir," answered Miss Elting, brightly.

"Well, I'm mighty glad to know about it. 'Pears as if you didn't know where you was going."

"And who are you, sir?" demanded the guardian.

"I'm the guide, Ja.n.u.s Grubb."

"Will you listen to the man!" chuckled Jane.

Harriet nodded with satisfaction.

"Ja.n.u.s Grubb? Why, sir, I don't understand. We have already met Mr.

Grubb," cried Miss Elting.