Chapter VI: The Gray Motor Car

It was not long before the door opened and a young girl bearing a lighted candle in each hand entered the room.

"This is my sister, Virginia," said Edward l'Estrange, introducing her to Miss Campbell.

Billie could hardly conceal her surprise, and Nancy, who always forgot not to speak out, was about to exclaim: "Why, it's the little chambermaid," when a reminding nudge from Elinor stopped her.

It was indeed the little chambermaid, although the fluffy pale gold hair was no longer tucked in a knot under the maid's cap, but hung in a shining mass down her back and was caught at the neck with a pink ribbon. Virginia was like a charming woman of the world. Her manners were so gracious and easy that they began to feel at home at once in the ghostly old place.

"These Southern girls," Miss Campbell was thinking, "how graceful and well-bred they are!"

"I'm so glad my brother brought you here," said the girl in the soft musical voice that had attracted them in the morning. "It would have been lonely for you on the beach and he may be some hours in getting back."

"Before you go, Edward," put in Elinor, "may we not see the mocking bird? Or has he gone to bed?"

"Oh, Dick? He'll wake soon enough if he knows there is company," said Virginia. "Do get him, Edward."

But Edward had already left the room and presently returned with a large covered cage which he placed on the table.

"Won't all these people and lights frighten him?" asked Billie.

"Not Dick," replied Edward. "He's a gentleman, first and foremost, and loves the ladies. And he's a very obliging rascal. Watch him open one eye when I take off the cover."

When the brown linen cover was removed, the graceful little fellow was disclosed, standing on one foot, the other drawn up under his body, which gave him a ministerial appearance, as if he were about to deliver a speech.

"Why, what an elegant little gentleman he is," cried Elinor delightedly. "Look at his neat brown coat and his white waistcoat. He might have just dressed to go to church."

Dick cocked his head on the side and opened one of his intelligent little black eyes as much as to say:

"Of course I'm a gentleman. I belong to the Mocking Bird family."

But he was well pleased with the attentions of these young people, for he hopped gravely out and stood on Edward's finger looking at them critically.

"Darling little Dicky," exclaimed Virginia. "He's the very life of this house. I'm sorry you're not to hear him sing. He makes it a rule never to sing after dark. The dawn is his favorite time."

Dick gave an apologetic little chirp. He regretted evidently that it was impossible to display his musical powers at this time.

Edward regarded him with the yearning gaze of a father toward his first born.

"You are very fond of him, aren't you?" asked Billie, noticing the look of pride and affection in the boy's eyes.

"He adores him," put in his sister, laughing. "But you had better go now, Edward. Uncle Peter said he would be around with Alexander in a few minutes."

"Oh, that reminds me, how are you going to get back to Palm Beach?" demanded Miss Campbell.

Edward blushed and looked at his sister, who, although she was the younger, was not so shy.

"He's going to ride," she said.

Just then the old colored woman the boy and girl so lovingly addressed as "Mammy," entered the room and walking straight over to Edward Paxton, said:

"Marse Edward, Alexander is at de do'."

The other Edward laughed.

"You didn't know I had a twin, did you, Mammy?"

The woman held up her hands in amazement.

"Fo' de Lord," she said, "I thought 'twas my young Massa."

Virginia, too, was amazed at the strong resemblance between the two boys.

"But I must be hurrying away," said Edward l'Estrange.

They followed him to the front door. Georgiana Paxton wanted to send word to her grandmother that they were safe. Miss Campbell had another errand for him, and Edward Paxton whispered something gravely in his ear. The two boys looked at each other. Already, they had established a sympathetic understanding. Then the American boy mounted an old bony mule and rode off down the avenue.

Billie now understood why Edward l'Estrange did not want to explain how he was to get back to the hotel. But Virginia laughed gaily. It was impossible to say whether it was really a pleasure to her to be entertaining these strangers in her dismantled old home or whether her manners were so perfect that she was able to make it appear so. One thing was plain, however. She was determined not to be recognized as the chambermaid of the morning.

They strolled back into what they strongly suspected was the only furnished room on that floor, and distributed themselves about on the sofa and two chairs.

"Won't you play for us, dear, on that beautiful big piano?" asked Miss Campbell, who was really enjoying the adventure.

"I'm afraid I don't play well enough to play before company. It was papa's piano. He was a musician. Perhaps some of you will play, and I'll open the door so that mamma can hear the music from upstairs."

"Is your mother ill?" asked Miss Campbell. "Are you sure we won't disturb her?"

"She is always ill," answered the girl sadly. "She never leaves her room. But music was once her greatest pleasure and I know she would enjoy hearing some one else play besides me."

"Edward," said Georgiana, "won't you play for Miss l'Estrange?"

The quiet English boy became suddenly animated. He had been leaning on the piano ever since he had been in the room. Perhaps his fingers were itching to touch the keys, for when he sat down and began to play the notes seemed to run from their ends like water from the mouth of a fountain. He played so beautifully that the girls began to comprehend why he never appeared to be hearing anything that was said around him.

"Supper is served, Miss Virginia," announced Mammy at the door, just as they were crowding around the young pianist with exclamations of pleasure.

"I'm sorry we can't eat in the dining-room," said Virginia, "but, as you see, the table is too small."

And that was the only apology she made that evening.

"My dear child," cried Miss Campbell, "you ought not to have taken all this trouble for us. I am afraid we have put you out terribly."

Virginia smiled and took her hand.

"It is a pleasure. What would Mamma say if she knew we let our guests leave the house hungry?"

The Motor Maids will never forget that supper party. They were taught a lesson in good manners and hospitality that they had not dreamed was possible.

They found themselves in a big old-fashioned kitchen. In the center was a table covered with a splendid damask cloth and set with the most motley and variegated pieces of glass and china ever beheld together outside of a curiosity shop. At Miss Campbell's place was a beautiful Bohemian glass tumbler. Two silver mugs, one marked "Edward" and the other "Virginia," stood at the sides and at the other places were several pressed glass tumblers and one or two cracked and chipped teacups of rare old china. Miss Campbell had the only silver knife and fork on the table. In the center was a crystal bowl, which had been cracked and mended, filled with oranges.

Uncle Peter, who was Mammy's husband, and the ex-butler of this fine old mansion, now appeared in an old blue swallowtail coat with brass buttons. He bore a platter of crisp, fragrant smelling bacon, and Mammy walked behind him with a dish of cornbread.

That was all the supper and no food ever tasted better to the hungry tourists.

"After all," thought Billie, "everything depends on who gives the party."

After his duties as butler were finished, Uncle Peter passed through the room bearing a large tray, and those who were facing him could not help noticing the appetizing and dainty meal set upon it on plates of old-fashioned blue and gold china. Billie caught a glimpse of half a broiled chicken and a small glass dish of jelly.

"It's for the sick mother," she thought, as she followed the others back into the living room, and it came to her with a throb that this boy and girl were probably denying themselves every luxury in life and working hard to look after their invalid mother. "I feel so worthless and no account when I think of those two," she thought. "I have never had to give up anything in all my life so that some one else could have it."

Elinor played for them after supper, and Virginia also played and sang some delightful old negro melodies. Finally, when she struck up the "Suwanee River," the girls joined in and the house was filled with music.

"Oh dear, I'm having such a good time," exclaimed the young Southern girl. "What a treat it is to be with other girls! I wish you were all going to make me a long, long visit."

"Perhaps you could make the girls a visit in West Haven," said Miss Campbell. "That would be a nice change for you from this Southern climate."

"It would be beautiful but I can't leave mother----"

"Miss Virginia," said the voice of Mammy in the hall, "your ma wants you quick----"

Virginia darted from the room and they heard her running up the stairs. A door opened somewhere above and for an instant there was a sound of weeping, which was shut out immediately when the door was closed.

"Dear, dear! I'm afraid we have disturbed Mrs. l'Estrange," said Miss Campbell. "How very unfortunate!"

They sat in a silent row listening for more sounds, but the place was as still as a tomb.

Elinor began to talk with Edward in a low voice about music. Georgiana and Mary presently became absorbed in conversation, and Miss Campbell, with her head against the back of the sofa, dropped off into an after-dinner nap.

Billie and Nancy rose and held a whispered conference at the window.

"Let's do it," said Nancy to some suggestion of Billie's. "What can harm us in this wilderness?"

"Mary," said Billie, "if Cousin Helen should wake, tell her we are taking a little stroll in the avenue. We can't endure this close, still place any longer."

The two girls tiptoed from the room and presently found themselves in the broad road which led to the house. How beautiful the place looked by moonlight, with its galleries and noble Doric columns! It was too dark to see the stained and discolored walls, the staring, empty windows, but even in this light they could discern the rickety look of the house which appeared to have slipped over on one side.

"I can easily imagine this place was haunted," whispered Billie.

They were standing in the avenue, examining the old building.

"Heavens, how you give me the creeps," exclaimed Nancy, taking her friend's hand and starting to walk.

They were like ghosts themselves as they flitted down the avenue in their white dresses. They felt it would soon be time for Edward to return, and they planned to meet him at the entrance and ride back.

"There he is now," said Nancy at last.

Far down the avenue they could hear the whirring of a motor engine.

"He's traveling fast," observed Billie, listening with practised ears to the sound of the machinery. "I didn't know the Comet could take such a pace as that."

"How strange for him to have no light," observed Nancy.

"Very careless, but I suppose something happened to the light. I don't think we'd better try to stop him," she added hurriedly. "He's going like the wind," and she drew Nancy back into the path beside the road.

To their surprise, as the machine approached, they saw that two men were in it, and, strange to say, it was not the Comet but a gray car which slowed up gradually as it neared the house.

"Better stop here," said one of the men in a low voice. "So this is the old place," he added. "Poor things! Poor things!"

"I don't see why you should pity them," said the other man. "You have more reason to hate the mother, than not."

There was silence.

"Now, Ignatius Donahue," went on the second man,--the girls' hands met in a frightened clasp and they pressed together behind the trees,--"I didn't bring you out here to sentimentalize. I want to talk business. We are both looking for the same thing. If I find it, I tell you frankly, I shall destroy it----"

"You scoundrel," cried the man called Ignatius Donahue. "You thief, you sneak----"

The two men grappled and began to fight. They fought like wild cats, first in the car and then on the ground. Presently the one on top hit his adversary a terrific blow on the head. He fell backward and lay quite still in the road.

Nancy was about to scream but Billie put her hand over her mouth.

The man kneeled on the ground and felt the other's heart.

"Stone dead," he muttered.

He lifted the man in his arms and, staggering under the weight, carried him through the thick undergrowth of what had once been the park of the old place and deposited him on the ground.

Then, with a terrified glance over his shoulder, as if he were already afraid the ghost of the dead man might follow him, he rushed blindly to the car, cranked it up, backed off and was gone like the wind.