Part 15 (2/2)
Then the thought of Cora's word (that she would see the detectives) crossed his mind. For a moment he almost changed his resolution. Then he decided:
”All's fair in love and war, and if this isn't war, it's a first-cla.s.s sham battle.”
Andy was out of sight. The last ”rays” of the two country skirts could just be made out, as their owners trudged along the avenue, and Jack Kimball took up his tune, where he had left it off, thrust his hands into his pockets, and sauntered off in the direction of the town garage.
As he antic.i.p.ated, both Ed and Walter were there, putting Walter's machine in s.h.i.+p-shape for the run after the girls.
”Are you sure, Jack Kimball,” demanded Ed, ”that the young ladies will be in no way put out by our rudeness? I have a particular desire to please the ladies.”
”Oh, you'll please them, all right,” replied Jack, taking a seat on the step of a handsome car, just in front of the one his friends were busy at. ”There is nothing on earth pleases a girl so much as to run after her, when she distinctly says you shall not go.”
”Hear ye! The expert!” called out Walter, as he rubbed the chamois over the bra.s.s lamps at the front of his runabout. ”Jack happens to know all about the game. Don't you remember the success of our hay-mobile run last year, when we went after the girls on their tour?
Well, take it from me, the event this year will be equally disastrous--only more so,” and Walter gave a last flourish to the lamp-polisher, then did a few fancy steps, in front of the car, to see that the reflection was correct.
”What time do we start?” asked Ed.
”Soon as we are ready,” replied Jack. ”The girls have already gone on, and I promised Mr. Robinson that we would keep just near enough to be within call, should they need us, but far enough away to be out of danger of their--Walter, what do you call it when a girl declares she can't bear a thing, and she just loves it?”
”Oh, that's--that's good taste,” replied Walter, running his hands through his hair with the doubtful purpose of removing from them some of their lately acquired gasoline and polis.h.i.+ng paste.
”Then, according to Walt, we must keep at a respectful distance from their good taste,” finished Jack.
”You are sure--the ghost works all right?” asked Walter. ”There is nothing more disgusting than a ghost that refuses to work.”
”Oh, my ghost is a regular union man--eight hours and all that,”
replied Ed. ”I've tried it on the chickens, and they almost turned into pot-pie from actual fright.”
”And what time are we counting on getting to a putting-up place?”
Walter asked further. ”If we leave here about three, will we get anywhere in time to--have breakfast, for instance?”
”Well, my machine is in fine shape,” declared Jack, ”and I just count on the _Get There_ beating your little _Comet_ if yours is a newer machine. With this calculation we should get to the Wayside by eight o'clock. The motor girls are going to put up there for the night, and we may be able to put _down_ there, if it appears out of good style for us to put _up_ there.”
”Why didn't they go right on--start in time to reach the beach to-night?” inquired Ed.
”Oh, just a whim. Girls want all that's coming to them, and a night at a Wayside they count among their required experiences, don't you know.
And the old folks being along made it particularly all right,”
declared Jack.
”But they'll beat us by an hour now,” almost sighed Walter, who was becoming famous among his chums for his keen interest in the girls and their doings.
”Not much,” answered Jack. ”They are going the long way 'round. Do you suppose they would go over the new road? Why, the dust would blind Cora if she made a single mile of that grind and grit.”
”Well, after my beauty bath, I'll be about ready,” observed Walter.
”Ed, don't put too much witch-hazel on your locks. Makes me think of the day after fourth of July, when I went to grandmama's.”
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