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The Outdoor Girls at the Hostess House, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 20. The Motorcyclist Again |
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_ CHAPTER XX. THE MOTORCYCLIST AGAIN "What a glorious morning!" cried Betty, raising her face to the brilliant sunshine. "I feel as if I could walk miles and miles and miles and never stop." "Well, it's lucky for you that you do," sighed Grace. "Perhaps you'd be willing to walk a few for me." "Oh, don't give up, Grade dear, before we've even started," cried Betty, giving a little exuberant skip with the sheer joy of being alive. "Anyway," she added, with inspiration, "if you get tired you and Mollie can go back and get the car." "And have to walk miles to get it," Grace objected. "No, Betty, you'll have to think up something better than that." "I wouldn't waste my time on such a lazy person, Betty," said Mollie, who was walking briskly ahead with Amy. "I suppose we might have brought the car," she added, after a minute, "only it seems foolish when you have to stop at every house you come to." "It not only _seems_ foolish--it _is_ foolish," said Betty cheerily. "Oh, I tell you what," cried Amy, seized with sudden inspiration, while the girls stared at her expectantly. "Hasten, Amy," cried Mollie, in a mock agony of suspense. "Do not keep us waiting in this fashion." "Well," said Amy with a twinkle, "let's buy a couple of the worst sounding horns we can find in town, go back and get Mollie's car--" "Yes?" they queried breathlessly. "And go through the streets tooting the horns until we've collected a crowd," finished Amy triumphantly. "And when we've got it, what'll we do with it?" queried Mollie reasonably. "Well, I should think you'd guess the rest," remarked Amy. "We could just tell 'em what we'd come for, that's all, and ask all who were willing to take a 'guest' to say 'aye.'" "Never mind, dear, there's still hope," remarked Mollie, patting her arm soothingly. "The doctor said, with absolute rest and quiet, you might get over it." Betty chuckled. Grace did not, for the reason that her feet were beginning to hurt and she did not feel in a chuckling mood. "Well, I don't know but what there's something in your idea after all, Amy," she said, while Amy looked immensely gratified. "I'm in favor of anything that cuts out walking." "'Cuts out'?" queried Mollie reprovingly. "Yes, cuts out," returned Grace, sticking to her guns. "What do you say, Betty? Don't you think Amy has the right idea?" "Well," said Betty diplomatically, while her eyes twinkled at the imaginary spectacle of whirling through the streets of the town, blowing raucously on horns and making stump speeches from the running board of the machine, "it would at least have the advantage of being spectacular--" "There, Mollie!" cried Amy, not waiting for her to finish, the light of triumph in her eyes. "You see it's three to one. Now, what have you got to say for yourself?" "Nothing," remarked Mollie dryly, "except to suggest that you wait until Betty gets through. I imagine she hadn't said all she wanted to on the subject." "Hadn't you, Betty?" queried Amy, a trifle disconcerted and looking back at Betty over her shoulder. "We-ll," said Betty slowly, "I never say a thing can't be done until it's tried--" "There!" Grace exclaimed, but Betty interrupted her. "But," she said hastily, "I think it might be just as well to try the less spectacular method first. Don't you?" Both Amy and Grace heaved a great sigh of disappointment. "For one beautiful moment," said Grace plaintively, "I dared to hope that you were with us, Betty." "Goodness, I am!" exclaimed the latter, wilfully misunderstanding. "With you to the death, if need be. But look," she added as they turned a corner, "Methinks we have pretty nearly reached the scene of our activity." "Methinks it's pretty nearly time," groaned Grace. "I tell you what we'll do," suggested Betty, as they crowded eagerly about her. "It will save time, and, I think, be the easiest way. We'll each one take an entire street, visit as many of the houses as possible within an hour, and at the end of that time we'll meet here again and each make her report." The others agreed to this, and they separated, each determined to find as many boarding places as possible for those relatives and friends who wished to be near their soldier boys. At the end of the hour they met again, looking a little warm and tired, but immensely triumphant. Grace was wildly excited. "Yes, I found places," she said, in answer to a question from Betty. "But what do you think?--I saw that motorcyclist." "You did!" came in a chorus from the other Outdoor Girls. "Of course you mean the rascal who ran down poor Mrs. Sanderson," came from Mollie. "The same. I was so startled I hardly knew what to do. He was coming from a small hotel--not a very nice place." "Maybe that is where he plays cards," suggested Betty. "As soon as he saw me he leaped on his motorcycle and left in a hurry, before I had a chance to say a word to him." "What a shame that you didn't have a chance to have him arrested," cried Amy. The girls talked the matter over for several minutes. As the motorcyclist was gone there seemed nothing they could do. "But we'll keep our eyes open for him," declared Betty. "I think this is the most wonderful town," Mollie remarked after a pause. "Why there's hardly a house that I visited but what the people were willing to accommodate at least one boarder, and in some cases two or three, and, what's more," waving her hand enthusiastically, "several of them didn't even want to take any money for it." "And I found almost the very same thing," agreed Betty, as they linked arms and started on the homeward walk. "I guess we have enough promises to start with now, and I don't think we'll have any trouble finding quarters for all who want them." "I shouldn't wonder if Mrs. Watson is right about our reputation," said Grace, a little ruefully. "Because the minute Mrs. Robinson opened the door and saw me she said she hadn't the slightest idea what I was going to ask her this time, but, seeing it was one of the girls from the Hostess House, she expected to say yes, anyway." The girls laughed and for some time afterward walked on in silence, busy with their thoughts. Then suddenly Betty spoke. "Girls," she said soberly, "Mrs. Sanderson is almost well again and I don't think we'll be able to keep her with us very much longer." "What do you mean?" they cried together, their voices showing how very real their concern was. "Well," Betty explained slowly, "it seems she overheard some of us girls talking about the rush of work in store for us and got it into her head that we might need her room." "But I don't see what difference that makes," protested Mollie. "As long as we're doubling up and giving her our room." "Well, of course, it appears that way to us," replied Betty, shaking her head thoughtfully. "But I'm afraid we can't hope to make her see it so. Anyway, Mrs. Watson said she spoke to her about it and said she would be going as soon as she had a chance to say good-bye to the 'young ladies.'" For a long time the girls stared straight before them, deeply troubled. It was not so much the thought of losing the old lady, although, having grown fond of her, they would miss her badly, as it was the realization that here was one person in deep trouble, whose burden they could not seem in any way to lighten. "And we haven't been able to get hold of that motorcyclist," mourned Mollie. "It makes me simply ferocious," she added, with sudden vigor, "to think of his getting away with a thing like that and not even a day in prison to show for it." "And now with the boys gone," added Amy, "I don't suppose we'll have a chance in the world of capturing him." "Humph," groaned Grace disgustedly, the temporary glow of success fading before the torture of aching feet, "I don't see that they helped very much when they were here. We did the suggesting, and all they did was to laugh at our suggestions--" "Well, there's no use in saying things about them now they're gone," said Amy, but Mollie caught her up indignantly. "Goodness, Amy," she cried, "it may not be your fault that you have a gloomy disposition, but you don't need to sound exactly like a funeral!" At this moment they were startled by the sound of a machine coming behind them at furious speed. Some chickens, crossing the road and pecking lazily as they went, scurried with alarmed squawking into the woods on either side. The girls, turning, started, gasped, then stared at each other. "The motorcyclist!" cried Mollie, as they turned and ran after the fast disappearing machine. _ |
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