The Motor Maids Across the Continent Part 7

"Why couldn't we take it?" asked Billie. "We're going to Salt Lake City."

Daniel Moore rested his chin on his hand and sat thinking.

"Why, you could," he said at last. "You could do that thing for me and I would be everlastingly in your debt. It could be done in this way without any risk for any one concerned. You could write her a note as if you were an old school friend and ask her to meet you."

"But she wouldn't know who I was," protested Billie.

"No; I'm thinking of that, too. But she would recognise this line: 'Have you forgotten that jolly day at Fontainebleau?'"

"Oh," said Billie.

"Then you could give her the note from me and that would be all you had to do."

At this moment the master of the house was called away by one of the servants, and the girls began discussing in low voices the romantic errand which was to cast a glamour of even greater interest around Salt Lake City. As they leaned over the maps chatting together there was a blinding flash of lightning and a terrific clap of thunder. Miss Campbell, frightened from her nap, hurried to them. They waited a moment in silence. Presently far down the avenue they heard the whirr of a motor car. There was something ominous and terrifying in the sound.

Another moment, it had stopped in front of the house. The hall door was flung open; there was the noise of hurrying footsteps; then the living-room door was opened and in the dim light there stood before them, just for the fraction of a second, Peter Van Vechten. There was a wild look in his eyes which searched their faces without recognition.

The door closed as suddenly as it had opened, and he was gone.

"The third wish came true," whispered Nancy as they pressed together in frightened wonder.

Presently there was a noise of footsteps and low voices in the hall. All the household must have been gathered there speaking in m.u.f.fled tones.

Tramp, tramp, tramp down the hall went the footsteps. A door closed somewhere and all was as still as death. Then came the sound of the motor again, gradually dying out as it flew down the avenue.

Had anything happened, they wondered. They were frightened and uneasy.

The house seemed to be filled with a mysterious silence.

Their host did not come back to them that afternoon, but retiring to their rooms they put on their prettiest frocks to do honor to his dinner, where he joined them at seven o'clock, looking a little pale and worried, they thought.

CHAPTER V.-AN INCIDENT OF THE ROAD.

"Sevenoaks" was the name of Mr. Moore's great farm, which covered acres and acres of fertile plain; called so because of seven great oak trees which shaded the circular drive girdling the front lawn. They were fine old trees, and much care had been taken to preserve them in order to preserve the significance of the name.

"If I were Evelyn," Nancy was thinking, as she stood next morning on the piazza scanning the storm-washed landscape now fast drying under the heat of the sun, "I should think it would be rather nice to be mistress of this beautiful place."

But Evelyn's name had not been mentioned again, and the name of the aviator also had never been introduced. The girls had waited, hoping there might be some explanation, but there was none, and they did not care to be accused of another act of curiosity.

What he could have been doing in that house, where he came from out of the storm and whither he went, they could not even guess. It was like a dream, a sudden vision flashed before them in the lightning and then gone.

They had been driven over the farm that morning by the master himself; had seen, with the other fine horses, Pocohontas pawing the ground with her small forefoot, while a groom rubbed her smooth, satin coat with a piece of chamois. And now the Comet stood under the center tree of the seven oaks, waiting to carry them on their journey.

One j.a.panese servant was strapping on the suit cases in the back while the other was storing a hamper of lunch and a box of provisions in the motor.

While Billie was waiting for the others to settle themselves in the motor, Daniel Moore handed her a letter.

"The name and address are on it," he said; "but promise me one thing: Don't deliver it if you feel any fear or hesitation. All I can say is, that if you do, you will probably be making two people happy forever, because I can't seem to get at her in any other way, and I have a conviction they have made her believe I have given her up. If you should ever need me," he added, "telegraph me to this address."

Then, with a last hand-shake and nods and smiles of farewell and waving of handkerchiefs, the red motor car shot down the avenue and they were off.

The handsome, kindly face of the owner of Sevenoaks with his genial blue-gray eyes and his pleasant smile seemed to float after them like a good genie along the way.

They lunched on the roadside that day under a big mulberry tree. A spring rippled near-by on purpose for Elinor's tea and they sat on cus.h.i.+ons on the ground, picnic fas.h.i.+on. It was great fun, and there was much to talk about. Billie drew out the letter and showed it to the girls. "Miss Evelyn Stone, No. 6 -- Street, Salt Lake City, Utah."

Before delivering the letter the girls realized that they must obtain Miss Campbell's consent, and they had been putting their heads together to devise a scheme by which their sprightly little chaperone should be won over to the cause of the lovers.

"Cousin Helen," began Billie, "did you notice anything peculiar about Mr. Moore?"

"Peculiar? No. I thought he was one of the most normal, well set-up, well-bred young men I had ever met."

"So did we," echoed the girls. "We liked him so much."

"But didn't you notice how sad he was, cousin."

"On the contrary, I thought he seemed very gay."

"He told us he was sad, at any rate. His heart is almost breaking."

"Tut, tut!" said Miss Campbell, "he has much too good a circulation for such nonsense."

"But he's in love, Miss Campbell," cried Elinor.

"Deeply, hopelessly in love," added Mary.

"With a beautiful girl," went on Billie.

"Who has a cruel father--"

"Who is a Mormon--"

"And won't let her marry any one but Mormons--"

"Mormons," cried Miss Campbell. "She can have only one at a time, child--"

"And Mr. Moore is not a Mormon. He's a Kentuckian," finished Nancy.

"Dear, dear," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miss Campbell. "So that's the way the ground lies, is it? Poor fellow! Poor unhappy soul. I'm sure I feel very sorry for him indeed!"

"He is unhappy, dearest cousin, and he can't reach her without breaking down the door," went on Billie. "Her father reads all her mail and Mr.

Moore simply can't get at her."

"Has the girl no mother to take her side? I don't wish to preach disobedience, but why doesn't she run away? She might look the wide world over and never find a nicer husband than that fine young man."

"That's what he can't understand," said Billie. "His letters have all been returned and he thinks they have told her something about him."

"He says if he could only get one more message to her--"

"Just a line--"