The Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Part 4

"Everywhere, my dear. All the fas.h.i.+onable resorts of Europe are familiar to us. We should be delighted to take you under our wing. Now, if there is any room in your motor for two--"

The girls exchanged horrified glances.

"What place do you consider the most beautiful you ever saw?" here interrupted Mary with quick tact.

"Porto Fino in Italy, dear. Queen Margharita calls it 'il Paradiso.'"

Even scenery must have an aristocratic sanction before it could be considered beautiful by Mrs. Jones.

"But, dear, as I was remarking, if your motor will hold--"

"Kechew! Kechew!" Nancy was seized with a sneezing fit.

"It's time for shuffleboard," cried Billie. "I do wonder where the others are."

It was a brilliant spring day and all the pa.s.sengers were on deck. Miss Helen was taking a stroll with some friends. Mr. Kalisch could be seen in the distance reading a book. The other pa.s.sengers were stretched in their steamer chairs or talking in groups.

"Who said shuffleboard?" called a cheerful voice, and Feargus O'Connor, his face as ruddy as the harvest moon, emerged from a pa.s.sage-way nearby.

Victor Pulaski, a young Russian, followed, with several others of the younger pa.s.sengers.

"We are all here except Marie-Jeanne," observed Billie, determined to draw the forlorn young girl into their pleasures.

"My daughter is not well. She is in her stateroom," put in Mrs. Jones.

The deck was marked and the game soon in full swing. Mary Price slipped away and went down to the Jones' stateroom, which was one of the less expensive kind somewhere in the depths of the s.h.i.+p. There were no second cabin pa.s.sengers on board.

Mary tapped timidly on the door, which was flung open almost instantly by Marie-Jeanne herself. There was a flush on her cheeks and she looked almost pretty for the first time since Mary had known her.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "I thought you were the stewardess. Does mother want me?"

"Oh, no," answered Mary. "I came down to see how you were. Your mother said you were not well."

Marie-Jeanne's face flushed angrily.

"I am quite--" she began, and interrupted herself with a hopeless little gesture. "It was sweet of you to come down. I'm not used to such attentions. You see, I'm doing housework,-was.h.i.+ng clothes this morning."

Mary slipped her arm around the other's waist.

"I believe you are happier when you are working, Marie-Jeanne," she said.

"I am, indeed. I would rather live in two rooms and cook in one of them, than stay at the best _pension_ in all Europe. Oh, Mary, have you got a home?"

"Yes," replied Mary. "My mother and I have to work to keep it, but we have one."

"Oh, how I love to work," cried Marie-Jeanne.

She then proceeded to take six handkerchiefs from an improvised clothes line hung across the stateroom. She sprinkled them with a little water, rolled them in a neat pile, and with quite a professional manner, tested a little iron heating on an alcohol stove.

"Would you like to see me iron?" she demanded. "I do the family wash in this way. It saves lots of money, and, well,-it quiets me."

"Quiets you?"

"Yes; you see, sometimes I have a feeling I'd like to scream or break something, and when that comes on me, I just turn all the linen out of the clothes bag and wash clothes until I'm tired out."

"What a funny girl you are," laughed Mary. "Do you spend all your time abroad?" she added.

"Most of it. We only go back when--" the poor girl paused and wrinkled her brows, "when we have to," she finished in a low voice. "But there is something I like better than was.h.i.+ng, Mary," she went on gayly. "You would never guess that it's cooking. I have learned to make a great many dishes. I am sure I could cook an entire dinner with soup and roasted chicken and peas and potatoes and something awfully good for dessert. I know several desserts. Sometimes we take lodgings,-mamma detests them, but-well, sometimes we have to, and then I cook, oh, such good things!

We are going into lodgings this time in London for a few weeks, and I shall be very busy. Perhaps you would come--" she paused. "No, mother would never consent to it. We never receive any visitors when we are in lodgings."

Marie-Jeanne sighed. Mary thought of the difference between Marie-Jeanne's "mamma" and her own beautiful mother, who worked so hard and was so dignified and n.o.ble. Her heart went out to the poor girl and she determined to make a friend of her if possible.

"Why don't you come on deck, Marie-Jeanne? Do stop work now. It's almost lunch time."

Marie-Jeanne extinguished the alcohol lamp and prepared to follow her friend aloft.

"I never had a friend before, Mary," she exclaimed, locking her arm shyly into the other's.

On deck a fresh wind had sprung up and every little wave wore a whitecap. The spray blew into their faces, tossed their loose locks and blew their skirts out like balloons. A game of "catcher" was going on, and the two girls were greeted with cries of joyous laughter and shouts of merriment. Telemac Kalisch was "old man" and he was chasing the others. Little Arthur was in the game and his shrill cries rang above the others'. He was a nimble child and had just slipped through Telemac's hands, when a man rushed from the salon and hurried down the deck. He had a thin, cadaverous face with a beaked nose, and he wore enormous horn spectacles. His chin was slightly receding and he had weak, pale eyes.

He paused in front of Billie, who happened to be running hand in hand with Arthur at the moment.

"I beg your pardon," he said angrily, "but are you aware that you happen to be endangering the life of a human being by your mad behavior?"

Billie flushed hotly.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Do you wish to be a murderess, young woman?" he exclaimed in a furious voice. "Has it not been made sufficiently clear to you that a certain person who shall be nameless is the victim of a terrible disease which affects his heart, and one dash up and down this deck might do him forever?"

Billie was silent. She had never been nearer bursting into tears in her life than at that moment, and not for worlds would she have trusted her voice before this brutal Englishman.

"I cannot imagine where the tutors are," exclaimed the man, who was Arthur's physician, F. Benton, M. D.

The others had gathered curiously around her and Billie felt that she was the center of an embarra.s.sing episode. She wished that some one would defend her, and she was grateful to Mr. Kalisch for breaking into the conversation.

"If you blame any one, blame me and not a young girl," said Telemac. "I am entirely responsible for the game." The doctor gave him a contemptuous glance. "I do not agree with you. The individual you speak of, who shall be nameless, is not troubled with a disease in any way. He was perfectly well a moment ago. If you wish to make him the victim of any such absurd notions, you must have extremely good reasons of your own."

The two men eyed each other coldly. Then Billie, who had been so brutally treated, was emboldened to speak.

"Little Arthur is perfectly well. Look at him. His cheeks are bright and he is happier than he has been since the s.h.i.+p sailed."

"On the contrary, young woman--"

"Young woman, indeed!" exclaimed Nancy.

The idea of addressing her friend as "young woman." It made her blood boil!