Part 15 (1/2)

”We will go into the house,” Mrs. Irving answered to their concerted cry of ”What shall we do?” ”Whatever it was that has frightened us has disappeared now, and we shall certainly be safer inside the house than out here. Come on, girls, I have the key.”

And so, leaving the cars where they were, the girls approached the house with shaking knees and hearts that hammered their fear aloud. The Outdoor Girls were ordinarily afraid of nothing real and human, but to be held up at the point of a pistol would unnerve almost any one, and the struggle the girls had made not to give way to their fears at the time had made them more nervous still. And this thing that had startled them now, added to what had gone before, seemed a little more than could be borne. It seemed, in fact, like nothing human.

Mrs. Irving turned the key in the lock, opened the door and stepped inside the dark place, motioning to the girls to follow her.

Fearfully the chums obeyed and Betty and Mollie pulled out their electric pocket torches, filling the place with a weird light. Mollie, being acquainted with the place, naturally took charge of the situation.

”There are matches over there,” she said, ”and candles over the fireplace.

For goodness' sake, let's get a regular light, folks. Perhaps that will make us feel more natural.”

”So say all of us,” echoed Amy. ”The dark makes everything worse, when you are not well acquainted with a place.”

Mollie touched a match to the candles, and in the answering flare turned to face her chums.

”Girls,” she said, determinedly, ”I don't know how you feel about it, but I vote that before we do anything else we get something to eat. We all look like ghosts just now and I'm sure we feel much worse than that. But a little food makes a monstrous lot of difference.”

”You know it does,” cried Grace, relaxing into one of the big chairs that were scattered about the room and covering her face with her hands. ”I think if I don't get something to eat soon, I'll die, that's all.”

”Well, we are none of us going to die,” said Mrs. Irving vigorously, as she threw aside her coat and hat. ”Show us the way to the kitchen, Mollie, and if there is anything there to eat, we will get it.”

Accordingly Mollie took one of the candles and led the way into a little room beyond while all the girls but Betty crowded in after her.

For the Little Captain slipped back for a moment and very quietly closed the door, shutting out definitely the shadow beyond it.

”I suppose it is foolish,” she said to herself, ”because if there is anything out there that really wants to get in there are plenty of ways that it can do it, without coming in through the door. But,” and she turned the key in the lock, ”it certainly makes one feel more comfortable to have the door closed.” Then she followed the girls into the other room, and the sight that met her eyes was certainly more cheering than anything she could have imagined.

Mollie's Uncle John had surprised them. In the exact center of a table set for five lay a young pig, roasted whole and browned to a turn! Nor was this all. The table was littered with covered dishes of all sizes and descriptions, and as the contents of each one of these dishes was disclosed, the girls became more and more excited and hilarious.

There was apple sauce in one, salad in another, mashed potatoes that had become quite cold in another, and a boat of gravy which had also become quite cold.

”But we don't mind,” cried Mollie joyfully, as she took the gravy-boat in one hand, the dish of potatoes in the other, and ran with them over to a great stove in one corner of the room. ”We need only some matches to have this blazing hot in a minute. No, not that way, Grace,” as the latter tried to help by lighting the burner. ”This isn't a gas stove, you know; it's an oil stove and you had better look out or you will blow us all up.”

It is small wonder if Betty was so dazzled by this joyful scene that she could neither move nor speak for the s.p.a.ce of two seconds or so. Then, recovering her powers of locomotion, she went over to the table and picked up a note that, in their excitement, the girls had overlooked.

”See what this says,” she called to them, and they looked at her rather impatiently. Just at that moment the only thing they cared to consider was food--and more food--and then some more!

But as Betty read they became more interested, and even stopped long enough to hear her through. It was a brief note. This is what it said.

”My dear young ladies:

”I am a neighbor of Mr. Prendergast,” (this was the dressed-up name of Mollie's Uncle John) ”and he axed me to get your dinner ready fer you. I tried to keep it hot but you wus so long comin' I had to go home to get dinner fer my old man. Hope things is all right.

”Lizzie Davis.”

”So she is the one who has done all this,” said Betty, looking around at the good things with dancing eyes. ”I bet she is nice and plump and has rosy cheeks.”

”Lizzie Davis? Lizzie Davis?” repeated Mollie, bringing the steaming gravy back and plumping the dish triumphantly down on the table. ”Rather a funny name for a fairy G.o.dmother, but she sure does know how to cook. Don't forget the potatoes, Grace. Come on, girls--let's sit down.”

So down the girls sat and acted like ravenous pigs--or so Grace described their conduct afterward. Mrs. Irving set to work carving the delicious pork, but they could not wait for her.