The Motor Maids Across the Continent Part 26

"Married the day after to-morrow," they repeated in whispers. "And stopping in this hotel. Where, oh where, was Daniel Moore?"

They glanced at the door uneasily.

"I think we'd better not stop in here, children," said Miss Campbell in a low voice. "It would be only a kindness to keep Mr. Moore from coming into the dining room while they are there."

She led the way into the broad s.p.a.cious hall of the hotel. But Daniel Moore had not been seen at the desk, nor was he in any of the parlors.

While they searched, Billie examined the hotel register. There on the same page with their own names were the three names-"John James Stone, Miss Stone, Ebenezer Stone." Six lines above John James Stone, Daniel Moore had written his name in a fine, manly hand. Billie noted the number of Evelyn's room, and then followed her friends up to bed.

"It's too late for us to interfere, I am afraid," said Miss Campbell sadly, as they stood in a silent little group in her room.

CHAPTER XVIII.-DAVID AND GOLIATH.

It was nine o'clock when Miss Campbell and the girls bade each other a final good night. They had talked the matter of Evelyn Stone to shreds and ribbons, but Miss Campbell was determined not to interfere.

"My dear children, you are young and romantic girls, and I am a hardened old woman, and from my knowledge of the world, I a.s.sure you it would be unpardonable for us to thrust ourselves into this strictly family matter. Miss Stone evidently doesn't want to marry Daniel Moore, or she never would have consented to marry that flint-like person named Ebenezer. No one can be coerced into marriage these days," she added emphatically, as if attempts were being made to force her into an unhappy marriage.

When Miss Campbell once and for all vetoed a question under consideration, the Motor Maids knew that the case was settled and there was no further appeal. Therefore, when those two intrepid fighters in all difficult battles, Nancy and Billie, retired to their bedrooms, their faces wore the downcast expression of the conquered. Nancy pressed a b.u.t.ton which illuminated all the electric lights in the room, including four at the dressing table and a cl.u.s.ter in the center. Then she began silently examining a brown freckle on the end of her pretty nose. Billie sat near the open window in her favorite position, her hands clasping her knees. Nancy's examining her freckle in the mirror was also a favorite position. The freckle, like the immovable cloud in the heavens at Terre del Fuego, was a permanent spot on Nancy's physiognomy. When she examined it most closely she was thinking deeply, not of the freckle, but of something else. Billie also was immersed in meditation. Her brow was wrinkled-a danger signal with her. She was about to disobey.

"Nancy-Bell, I'll do it," she burst out at last.

"Well, why don't you?" answered Nancy, not unprepared for the declaration.

"Have you guessed what it is?"

Nancy pointed silently to the telephone.

"You're a mind reader, Nancy-Bell," exclaimed the other in admiration.

"It isn't much to read your mind," answered her friend, not intending to be uncomplimentary. "Your eyes have been glued to the reflection of the telephone in the mirror for the last five minutes."

"What shall I say to her, Nancy, dearest?"

Before Nancy could reply, she carefully removed her best frock and laid it away. Then she stretched herself on the bed. Nothing would induce her to lie down in that cherished garment.

"Say?" she began, stretching herself out comfortably. "Say-well-say 'have you forgotten Fontainebleau?'"

"The very thing," replied Billie. "She doesn't know my name, of course.

I might say-'have you forgotten Prairie Inn? That was where we met her, and it wouldn't involve Daniel. I think she's down on him, Nancy. It's a shame, poor fellow."

"I imagine," continued Nancy reflectively, "that she will go to her room early. She didn't look as if she cared to linger in the company of Ebenezer. Perhaps they will stay down and smoke some of those big black cigars like that stony man was smoking when we first saw him. If you want to catch her alone, you'd better try her now, Billie."

Billie rose and moved slowly toward the telephone.

"It's against orders," she said at last, with an expression not unlike a bad little boy's.

"I know it," said Nancy, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"And it may get us into a peck of trouble," went on Billie. "Will you stand by me, Nancy?"

"Did I ever fail you, Billie?"

"Never, Nancy-Bell; and it was an insult to your honor to have asked the question. Well, here goes."

Billie marched to the telephone, and, with heroic decision, put the receiver to her ear.

"Miss Evelyn Stone's room," she said. "What's that? Not allowed to call her up? Oh, very well. I'll give my name-Miss Wilhelmina Campbell-an old friend-here for a few days." She placed one hand over the mouthpiece and blinked at Nancy. "Shall I say Fontainebleau or Prairie Inn?" she called softly to Nancy, who, lying on her back on the bed, continued to peruse the brown spot on her nose by means of a small hand mirror.

"Prairie Inn," said Nancy. "No-no, better say Fontainebleau. The father was at Prairie Inn."

"Old Fontainebleau friend--" Billie called over the telephone. Then she put up the receiver. "The clerk will call us when he has delivered the message," she explained. "But I'm scared, Nancy. I have a premonition of evil."

The two girls waited breathlessly for five minutes. The telephone bell rang out.

Billie sprang to the receiver.

"h.e.l.lo," she said softly.

Then she turned quite pale, and placing her hand over the mouthpiece, she whispered: "It's old Stony-face. Come quick. You can hear."

Even across the room Nancy caught some of those vibrant base tones, and with her ear against the telephone, she heard every word he said.

"A friend of my daughter's, you say? An old school friend, eh?

Humph--"

Billie had not said that, but she made no denial.

"Campbell the name. Are you aware that my daughter is about to be married?"

"Oh, yes," called Billie. "That's why I wanted to see her. I-er-you know--"

She broke off lamely.

"Oh, Nancy, what shall I say? I'm so frightened."

Nancy had a brilliant idea, and one most characteristic.

"The trousseau," she hissed.

"I do so want to see her trousseau," Billie repeated.

There was a deep laugh, which shook the wires like the roar of a lion.

"Girls are all alike," he said. "They love finery. Evelyn has got the finest trousseau that money can buy. I suppose you have heard of it.