The Motor Girls on Crystal Bay Part 22

It was getting dark when Freda came out at the side porch and looked anxiously down the road.

"Mother should have come on that train," she told herself. Then she waited to hear the train pa.s.s at the second crossing. "She would be on her way up now if she came," Freda reflected, "I'll get my things on and go to meet her."

Coming down the stairs she called Cora, but receiving no reply she did not wait to find her. She expected to be gone only a few minutes and it was not worth while to wait to tell Cora where she was going.

The dusk came down quickly. Even as Freda pa.s.sed under the big elm tree she could not see the moss at its trunk.

She hastened on, and was almost startled into a scream as she heard a noise. It was but the tinkle of a bell.

"Someone on a bicycle!" exclaimed Freda, in relief.

The bell tinkled again, and through an opening in the trees she caught a glimpse of the messenger boy from the railroad station. He saw her and called:

"A message for you!"

"A message for me?" she repeated in surprise. "Who can it be from?" At once she thought of her mother.

"I don't know," answered the lad. "Mr. Burke, at the station, took it over the telephone, and wrote it out. Here it is," and he held up an envelope. "It's all paid, and you don't have to sign the book; it isn't a regular telegram."

With trembling fingers Freda tore open the envelope. There was a single slip of paper inside and on it was written in the hand of the station agent:

"If you would do your mother a service come to Wickford Junction at once."

"Wickford Junction!" gasped Freda, as the messenger boy rode away.

"Why, how did mother get there? That's in the opposite direction from Lamberton. Oh, there must have been some accident, and she has been taken there! I must go to her!"

Hastily Freda looked in her purse. She had barely money enough for the ticket, but she would go. On eager and anxious feet she sped toward the railroad depot. It was getting much darker.

"Oh, Mr. Burke!" Freda gasped, when she saw the agent behind his little wicket gate, "I've got to go to Wickford Junction. Mother is there."

"She is, Freda? Why I sold her a ticket to Lamberton this morning."

"I know. But there must have been some accident. I just got a message from Wickford Junction."

"I know, for I wrote it down. The person wouldn't give any name, but I'm sure it wasn't your mother."

"No, it couldn't have been! She's hurt!"

"Hurt?"

"Well, of course I'm not sure, but I fear she is. She must have told someone to send it. I've got to go. How much is a ticket?"

"Eighty-five cents. The train's due now. There she comes," he added, as a distant whistle sounded.

Freda had barely time to get her ticket and hurry aboard.

"Don't worry," the agent called out to her. "There hasn't been any accident, or I'd have heard of it."

But Freda did worry. All the way in the train she was a prey to nervous fears, and when the Junction was finally reached she was hardly able to keep up.

But there was no sign of an accident, and her mother was not there when she alighted--the only pa.s.senger to get off.

Wickford Junction was hardly more than a flag station, and there was an agent there only part of the time. He was not there now, but in the dingy waiting room, where Freda went to make inquiries, she found a shabbily dressed woman.

"Are you Freda Lewis?" the latter asked, starting forward.

"Yes, I am. But how did you know? Where is my mother? Did you send me a message? Oh, tell me quickly, please!"

"Now, dearie, don't get excited," soothed the woman in accents that only made Freda worry more. "It will be all right. I sent for you to come here because I wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone. Now if you'll sit down----"

"What do you mean?" asked Freda, quickly. "I don't know you. What do you want?"

"Just to have a little talk with you. I thought it better to take this means than to go to your house. Sit down. You and your mother are trying to establish a claim to some property; aren't you?"

"Yes, that is well known. But what do you----"

"Never mind about that. I will tell you all in due time. Have you any papers to prove your claim?"

"Any papers?" asked Freda, suspiciously.

"Yes--deeds, mortgages or the like. I have studied law, and I may be able to help you. I have had experience in many disputed claims."

"We don't know where----" Freda was about to say that they did not know where the papers were, when she thought better of it. Was it right to confide thus in a stranger?

"Now, dearie, tell me everything," said the woman. "You can trust me.

Or, better still, if you will come with me to the country hotel where I am stopping we will not be disturbed. Better come with me," and in her eagerness she caught Freda by the arm.

"No, no! I'll not go!" gasped the girl. "I want to find my mother. Who are you, and why do you ask me these questions? Did you send me that false message? What was your purpose in so deceiving me?"

"I did not deceive you!" replied the woman, sharply. "It was for the good of your mother that I asked you to meet me here. I will explain all to you later, but not here. I can do you good. Only trust me. Come with me. I have a carriage waiting outside."

Again she caught Freda's arm.

Then the hara.s.sed and nervous girl burst into tears. A kindly-faced hack driver, waiting outside in the hope of having some belated traveler hire him, heard. d.i.c.k Bently was a benevolent sort of chap, with daughters of his own. Hearing a girl crying he went into the depot.

"What's the matter, Miss?" he asked, and his tone was rea.s.suring.

"Oh, it's my mother!" gasped Freda. "She isn't here, and this--this person sent me a message----"

"It was for your good, my dear," interrupted the strange woman, with an evil smile. "I'm trying to settle that property matter for you, my dearie!"

"Who are you, anyhow?" asked d.i.c.k belligerently. He did not like the appearance of the woman, nor her tone.

"It is not necessary for me to tell you anything," she replied, with a.s.sumed dignity. "If I am not wanted, I will go."

"Maybe it would be better," said the hackman. "Now, can I help you, young lady?" he asked kindly, as the woman hurried off.