Part 4 (1/2)

”You don't really think those boys would play a trick on him?”

interrupted Hazel. ”Somehow I didn't like the way they looked--as if they were plotting something.”

Cora laughed heartily. ”Why, you precious baby!” she managed to say; ”do you think boys of their caliber would tamper with the mail? To say nothing of putting so nice a boy as Paul to inconvenience?”

”Oh, of course; forgive me, Cora. I should not have asked that. But you know what Paul and I are to each other!”

”Yes, I know,” said Cora with marked emphasis. ”You are each the other's little brother and sister. But it's nice, Hazel, very nice, and I forgive you the fling at Jack.”

”And Ed?” asked Hazel mischievously.

”And Walter,” added Cora, ignoring the personal.

”Oh, mercy!” yelled Belle. ”We're going to have another fire and brimstone thunderstorm! Cora, make for that farmhouse!”

”Yes,” called Cora, ”I guess it will be all wind, and it won't hurt the machines. Turn for the cottage, girls!”

Blinding and brutal, the wind and sand attacked the eyes and ears of the motor girls, in spite of all the hoods and goggles. It was one of those tearing windstorms, that often come in summer, seemingly bent on raising everything on earth heavenward except the sand--that always sought refuge under eyelids--the average grain of sand would rather get in a girl's eye than help to make up a reputable mountain.

The line of cars made straight for the little farmhouse. It was sheltered in a clump of pines quite near the roadside.

Bess drew up first. Belle was out, and upon the steps of the porch.

She had even struck the bra.s.s knocker before the others could bring their machines to a stop.

”Belle is frightened,” said Ray, taking her time to leave Cecilia's auto.

”Well, we had a great storm one day--and Belle has the reflex action,”

explained Cora, referring to an exciting incident told of in the first book of this series.

The door of the cottage opened.

”Come on, girls!” called Belle. ”We may come in--the lady says.”

”Now--now for an adventure!” whispered Cecilia. ”I can see it through the closed blinds! I see it under the knocker. I feel it in my gloves! Yes, young ladies, there is going to be something doing inside that cottage!”

CHAPTER IV

THE STRANGE PROMISE

When the eight young ladies marched into the little cottage it must be admitted that each had her misgivings. What would any one think of such a procession?

But Belle, whether from actual fright of the storm, or from some intuitive knowledge of the circ.u.mstances, seemed to be a.s.sured that they were all welcome.

A dark-eyed woman greeted them.

”Why, come right in,” she insisted. ”We haven't much room, but we are all glad to see you.”

”Careful,” whispered the mischievous Clip to Cora. ”There's a trap door some place, I'll bet.”