The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach: or, In Quest of the Runaways

“Then,” Nellie helped out, “we slept one dreadful night in an old stone house. And it was haunted.”

“That was the house by the spring,” volunteered Jack, “where we found the hat, and other things.”

“Yes,” said Nellie, “we did leave some things there.”

“And I found your dress away out on the road one night, very late,” Bess put in, while the newspaper man smiled at the queer story with so many “personal contributions.”

“Oh, yes! We were waiting for a trolley car, and we heard an automobile coming. Then I had to throw away a bundle – I didn’t want to take it along with me. I thought Aunt Delia might describe our clothes.”

“You got along pretty well for amateurs,” remarked the detective with a laugh. “Some experts might have done worse.”

“Then you came straight to Lookout Beach?” asked the reporter.

“Oh, no,” answered Nellie. “We had to work our way down. First we went to work at the Wayside Inn.”

“Now, I want to speak,” announced Jack with a comical gesture. “I would like to know whose shadow it was I was chasing one night around the Wayside? I never had such an illusionary race before in all my life. I came near concluding that my mind was haunted.”

Nellie laughed outright. “Oh, wasn’t that funny!” she exclaimed. “I was trying to hide something, and you were trying to see who I was. I thought I would never get away from you, but I did fool you, after all.”

“That’s right,” admitted Jack. “But you left me a lock of your hair.”

Nellie blushed to her ear tips. Rose frowned, and shook her head to call her sister’s attention to the man who was taking notes.

“Where does my story come in?” demanded Andy. “I had a part in this show.”

“Oh, we are coming to you,” replied the reporter. “Seems to me this will make a serial. It’s a first-rate story, all right.”

“Don’t say anything about the graveyard,” whispered Belle to Ed. “I should hate to have that to get into print.”

“Oh, that’s another story,” replied the scribe. “We’ve got one end of that. The chauffeur declares he went after you, and spent all night in a cemetery – looking for the party he had left stalled there.”

Jack and Ed took a hand at story telling at this juncture, and it was the orphans’ turn to listen in surprise at the disclosures. Finally the boys got back to the runaways’ part in the happenings.

“Then you came to Clover Cottage?” suggested Cora, smiling at the two girls.

“Yes, we came here the first night. After that we got work in the motion picture show.”

“And was it your nose I almost burned off?” asked Ed. “I beg – your – pardon,” and he made a courtly bow to Nellie.

“Yes. That was a great trick,” said Rose. “We almost killed ourselves trying to hide that night. We managed to walk right past you, though, without your knowing us.”

“And were you the ‘carrier pigeon?’” asked Belle. “It was you, of course, who came up in the automobile, played ghost, and hung the note on the lamp?”

“Oh, yes. The manager of the show wanted us to stay on, and we felt so dreadful that Nellie told him something about our trouble. Then he said he would drive us out to the cottage if we wanted to leave a message. He wrote the note for us, and Nellie crept in and hung it where she said you would be sure to see it.”

“We saw it, all right,” commented Jack, smiling broadly.

“And so they thought we took the old earrings,” spoke up Rose indignantly.

“Well, it did look bad,” said the detective, “since you had thrown the case away.”

“As if we would steal!” snapped Nellie, her pretty eyes flashing.

“When we saw that story in the newspaper we had to run away again,” sighed Rose. “Oh, it was dreadful!”

“But I was determined from the first that I would find you,” said Jack mischievously, “and you see – I did.”

“No, I did!” burst out Andy.

“Hush there, boy! Didn’t I find you?” asked Jack.

“Well, we are found, anyhow,” commented Nellie, “and I don’t want to be lost again. But who got the earrings?”

“Me for the jig!” shouted Andy. “Now I come in. You see,” and he straightened up, and thrust his hands in his pockets as he always did when he had anything important to divulge, “I gave the young lady the card. I gave her the tip about the cops. I piped off old lady Schenk and Ramsy, and say! You ought to see them tear around Chelton when they found everybody in the game had cleared out!”

Andy stopped to laugh. The others laughed without stopping.

“And then – golly! If me mother didn’t do the old lady’s wash again just because there was a strike at the patch. And – then – She finds the sparklers tied up tight in an old rag of a handkerchief!”

“Your mother found them!” all the girls present asked in accord.

“Sure thing!” replied Andy.

“And Andy knew enough to fetch them to me,” said the detective. “That is how he came to get the hundred dollars reward!”

“Hundred dollars reward!” repeated Rose and Nellie.

“Don’t I look it?” demanded Andy, swinging around to show off to advantage his new clothes.

“You look a couple of hundred,” replied Ed. “Say, I’d like to get one like that.”

The reporter said something about not having a camera, but Andy did not hear the remark.

“And now,” resumed the detective, “what are we to do with these young ladies? We have sufficient evidence to keep them away from Mrs. Ramsy. She is not a person capable of looking after children. She has all she can do to look after the mighty dollar.”

“Oh, if you will only let us work,” pleaded Rose. “I know a lot about housework.”

“Why, we want some one right away,” said Bess. “Our maid has nervous prostration from the fright that those two dreadful Squaton women gave her the day they visited our house after going to Cora’s. Couldn’t you let Rose and Nellie stay right here, officer? We could give them both something to do.”

“They certainly can wash dishes nicely,” put in Cora, smilingly.

“Why, I don’t see what’s the objection,” said the detective. “Of course we will have to have a guardian appointed. Until then they could be placed in charge of your mother!”

Nellie opened her eyes wider than ever. Rose bit her lip to hide her confusion.

“Wouldn’t that be jolly?” said Cora. “I was sure we would be able to manage it all right. Why, you girls will have a good time, after all, at Lookout Beach!”

“You bet they will,” declared Andy. “I’m going to stay down here for a few days, and I’ve got some money to spend!”

The reporter arose to go. The detective followed his example.

“We are greatly obliged,” said the newspaper man. “I am sure this will make a fine story.”

Down the steps of the cottage went the tall detective and the reporter.

“Don’t poke fun at the poor girls,” begged Cora of the newspaper man, in a whisper. “They have suffered enough.”

“Indeed, and I intend to show up the woman responsible for them running away, rather than to make a spread about the poor things,” the reporter assured her. “Never fear, leave it to me,” and with a pleasant smile he departed.

Bess ran upstairs, where her mother was resting. So far, Mrs. Robinson had heard nothing of the ending of the quest after the runaways. Bess quickly told her the whole story, and broached her plan of having Nellie and Rose do the housework at the cottage.

“Indeed, my dear, they shall do nothing of the sort,” instantly decided Mrs. Robinson. “They shall learn some useful trade. I will see to it myself.” She felt rather flattered, than otherwise, that the fate of the orphan girls rested, somewhat, with her; and she resolved to make the most of her opportunity. The housework at Clover, she said, could be done by any or all of the motor girls.

Rose and Nellie gladly acquiesced in the plan, and thus their shadows were turned to sunshine. Arrangements were made for their board at a cottage where the crippled woman and her daughter, who had been rescued from the surf, had spent a few days. The invalid, after paying a formal call on Mrs. Robinson, to thank the young people for what they had done, went back to her home.

“Well, all’s well that ends the way it ought to,” spoke Jack Kimball that night, as they were all gathered on the Clover porch. “But those runaways certainly gave us a chase.”

“And to think how strangely it began, and how it unfolded bit by bit,” remarked Cora.

“It’s all to the – ” began Bess.

“Bess!” exclaimed Belle, and Bess subsided, but muttered something under her breath that made Ed and Walter laugh.

“Well, we certainly have had exciting times at Lookout Beach,” spoke Ed, after a pause. “May there be more of them.”

“Not quite so exciting, please,” pleaded Cora. But the Motor Girls were destined to have further adventures, as will be told of in the next book of this series, to be called “The Motor Girls Through New England, Or, Held by the Gypsies.” In that volume we shall learn all about a delightful tour and of a happening to Cora Kimball that was far out of the ordinary.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” suddenly exclaimed Jack, leaping to his feet, and striking an attitude.

“Forgot what?” demanded Bess.

“The dance we are going to give at our bungalow night after to-morrow. It will be great! Mrs. Robinson, will you come and bring the girls?”

“Of course,” assented the twins’ mother.

“Then hurrah for the first dance of the bungaloafers!” cried Ed and Walter. “Long may it last, we will live in the future, and forget all the past.”

“Oh, Jack – a dance!” cried Bess. “Tell me all about it,” which Jack, nothing loath, did with much wealth of detail. And there, on the porch of Clover Cottage, while the silver moon shone over the sea, we will say good-bye, for a time, to the Motor Girls and their friends.

THE END