The Automobile Girls at Chicago: or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds

About this time a maid came up to tell them that the car was at the door. The girls hurried down, laughing and chatting, Ruth's irritation apparently having been banished from her mind. It was a bright, sparkling day. The lake glistened and the wind from it again blew the color into the faces of the "Automobile Girls."

Mr. Stuart's office was in one of the tall office buildings on La Salle Street, not far from the Board of Trade. The girls were shot up to the seventeenth floor on the elevator with a speed that fairly took their breaths away. Mollie uttered a chorus of subdued "ohs" all the way up.

Even in the staid business office the girls found much to interest them. Mollie's attention was first attracted to an energetic little machine at one side of the room. This odd looking machine ticked like a clock, but resembled one in no other way, and from it at intervals spun a narrow, ribbon-like strip of paper which curled and coiled into an elongated waste-paper basket. Mollie stood over the basket regarding the perplexing letters and figures printed on the paper ribbon.

"Do – do you make ribbons on this?" she questioned, laying a finger on the glass globe that covered the mechanism.

"Not exactly, my dear," answered Mr. Stuart. "But that little machine sometimes helps us to buy ribbons for our families. That is a ticker. It gives the market quotations. I hardly think you will be interested in it."

Mollie decided that she wasn't.

"If you are ready, girls, we will go over to the Board of Trade, where you will see the bulls and bears engaged in a pitched battle. It is to be a lively day on the floor of the Pit."

Mollie was frowning perplexedly.

"Are we really going to see a bull fight?" she whispered to Ruth. "Do the bulls and the bears really fight? I – I don't think I want to see them if they do."

"No, no, silly. Nothing of the sort. Oh, girls!" laughed Ruth merrily.

"Don't you dare tell them," admonished Mollie, "I'll never forgive you if you do."

"Never mind," called Ruth to the others, "I'll explain, dear. Of course you know nothing about these things. I wish I didn't. I wish father did not, either," she added with a touch of bitterness. "Bulls and bears are mere men. The bulls are those who try to force up the prices of wheat and other things, while the bears are the ones who seek to keep the prices down. I – I never have been able to make up my mind which of them is the most undesirable."

"I am sure Mr. Stuart isn't a bear," muttered Mollie.

"Indeed he is not," laughed Ruth, once more restored to good nature.

Instead of taking Mr. A. Bubble, the girls walked down from Mr. Stuart's office to the big, gloomy building that housed the Board of Trade. They were conducted to the gallery, where Mr. Stuart left them to go down to the brokers' rooms to consult with some of his friends.

It was a mad, wild scene that the little country girls gazed upon. It was like nothing they ever had seen before.

"Goodness me, they are fighting!" cried Barbara in alarm.

Men were dashing about here and there. Hats were smashed, paper was being torn by nervous hands and hurled into the air, to fall like miniature snow flurries over the heads of the traders. Shouts and yells, hoarse calls were heard from all parts of the floor. One man threw up a hand with the fingers spread wide apart. Instantly a dozen men hurled themselves upon him. He staggered and fell. Willing hands jerked him to his feet. It was then that the "Automobile Girls" saw that the unfortunate man's coat had been torn from him. His collar flapped under his ears and a tiny red mark was observable on one cheek.

"Oh!" gasped the Kingsbridge girls.

"Wha-a-at are they fighting about?" gasped Mollie, her face pale with excitement, perhaps mingled with a little fear.

"They aren't fighting." Ruth had to place her lips close to the ears of her companion to make herself heard. "They are buying and selling. That is the way business is done on the floor of the Pit. See! There is father!"

The girls gazed wide-eyed. Mr. Stuart had projected himself into the maelstrom of excited traders. He, like the rest, was waving his arms and shouting. A group of excited men instantly surrounded him. He was for the moment the centre of attention, for Robert Stuart was one of the largest and most successful traders on the Chicago Board of Trade. The battle waged furiously about him, while the "Automobile Girls" gazed in fascinated awe upon the strange, exciting scene.

All at once a gong sounded. The tension seemed to snap. Men who had been fighting and shouting suddenly ceased their activities. The bodies of some grew limp, as it were. Some staggered. Others walked from the floor laughing and chatting. Out of the crowds strode a man – a young man. What first attracted the attention of the girls to him was a bandage about his head. He was walking straight toward them, though on the floor below. All at once he glanced up. Only Bab was looking down at him now. His gaze swept over the gallery. His eyes rested for a moment on the face of Barbara Thurston.

"The man from section thirteen!" exclaimed Bab under her breath. Then as she caught his eyes, she gazed in trembling fascination. The man's features were contorted. Barbara thought it was the most frightful face she ever had gazed upon. Anger, deadly passion and desperate purpose were written there so plainly that anyone could read. Looking her fairly in the face, the man sneered. Whether he recognized her or not, the girl did not know.

"Oh!" cried Bab, with a shudder.

"What is it, dear?" questioned Ruth anxiously.

"Oh, take me away from here. Please take me away," almost sobbed Barbara. "I – I can't stand it. It was awful."

"Come, girls," urged Ruth. "Bab is upset. I will confess that I have had enough of this place of nightmares." Rising, she led her friends down the stairs to the lower floor. Barbara was still trembling when they saw Mr. Stuart coming toward them. His face was set and stern. But the instant he caught sight of the "Automobile Girls" the sternness drifted slowly from his features, giving place to a pleased smile.

"Why, Barbara, how pale you are!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter?"

"She is upset," answered Ruth briefly.

Mr. Stuart eyed her keenly.

"Was the excitement too much for you, my dear?" he asked.

"I – I think so," replied Bab. Then as the thought of that face and its dreadful expression recurred to her mind, she trembled more violently than before. Mr. Stuart linked his arm in hers and led her away, followed by the others of the party.

"It really is no place for young girls," said Mr. Stuart. "I should not have brought you here. Girls, we will take the car and go home at once. Barbara had better lie down for a while before luncheon. She is completely unnerved."

This Barbara knew to be true, but by great effort she conquered her fit of trembling, and before the Stuart's residence was reached she had in a great measure regained her self-control.

CHAPTER V

AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT

"OH, it is good to be back," declared Bab, as they entered the broad, cheerful hall of the Stuart mansion. "I don't feel as though I ever wanted to leave the house again."

"I like it here just as well as you do," answered Mollie. "But I shouldn't like to feel that I had to stay inside the house always."

Ruth had made good time on the return, now and then "shaving the paint from the sides of a street car," as Bab expressed it. Still, Ruth Stuart was not nearly as careless a driver as she appeared to be. She did take chances frequently, but the guiding hand at the wheel was sure and steady. She seldom used bad judgment. Her father had such confidence in her driving that he never interfered while riding with her. As for the three Kingsbridge girls, they were by this time so used to Ruth's driving that they declined to get nervous even when she had narrow escapes from collision.

"Girls, I am glad you have returned," greeted Miss Sallie, meeting them in the hallway as they entered. "You have callers."

"Pshaw!" muttered Ruth disgustedly. "Bab wants to lie down and rest. She is all upset. Can't we make our escape?"

"I am all right now," protested Barbara. "However, the company probably came to see Ruth instead of the rest of us."

"You are wrong," smiled Aunt Sallie.

"Who is it?" questioned Ruth.

"Cousin Richard, Cousin Jane and Tom Presby. You don't mind them."

"Oh, no indeed," laughed Ruth. "Come on, girls, let's go upstairs and get rid of our wraps, and remove some of this Chicago smoke from our faces. If I look as dirty as I feel I must be a sight."

"Father and mother here? You don't mean it?" exclaimed Olive in surprise. "I wonder why they have come in. Girls, you needn't worry about your appearance. Neither father nor mother will notice it. They are well used to the ways of healthy girls. As for Tom, well he doesn't figure at all. He wouldn't know whether our faces were clean or grimy. Come right in. Are they in the library, Aunt Sallie?"

"Yes, dear."

"Not one step will I go until I have made myself more beautiful," declared Ruth.

"I don't think that would be possible," said Bab in a tone calculated for Ruth's ears alone.

"Don't," begged Ruth. "I shall think you insincere if you don't stop talking that way. And my face is so besmudged that I am not fit to see anyone. You must come upstairs with me," she added, linking an arm in Barbara's. "Please tell them we shall be right down, Auntie."

Olive went directly to the library to see her parents. The other girls soon followed her. The library was darkened, lighted only by the snapping fire in the fireplace. Mr. Presby explained that he had come into town to see Mr. Stuart, who was at that moment welcoming him. Mr. Stuart excused himself, promising that he would return to his guests as soon as he had telephoned certain necessary orders to his office. Mr. Stuart had barely left the room when Bab and Ruth entered. Olive came forward quickly. She took Barbara's arm in hers, steering Bab toward Mrs. Presby.

"I want you to meet my mother. I know you will love her, for she's a dear. Mama, this is Barbara Thurston, of whom you have heard so much. I can assure you that she has not been overrated."

Bab moved blushingly forward. The floor was one of those slippery, hard-wood traps for the unwary. Barbara was not used to polished floors. She took a long step to keep up with Olive, who was moving rapidly. Bab's foot came in contact with a small rug, and together the rug and foot slid over the slippery floor.

Barbara Thurston's other foot followed the first. Realizing that a fall was inevitable, Barbara quickly released her arm from Miss Presby's.

"Oh!" exclaimed Bab, and sat down on the floor with such force that it jarred her from head to foot. There was a distinct vibration from several articles in the room as though they were moving out of sheer sympathy for the unfortunate girl.

Barbara struggled to her feet. Again she stumbled over the rug that had caused her to fall, and brought up heavily against a dark object near by. The object uttered a deep groan, as out of the shadows limped an elderly, dignified man. Pain and anger were struggling for the mastery of his facial expression. Barbara had landed fairly on Mr. Richard Presby's gouty foot.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," pleaded the girl. "I am so awkward and I did not see you at all. Please forgive me, if you can," she begged.

Mr. Presby, however, merely grunted out some unintelligible words. That he was not appeased by her contrition was plain to be seen. He had been in the act of rising to his feet to bow to the girls when Bab collided with him. Grace, Mollie and Ruth, who had followed Barbara into the room, suppressed their giggles with no little effort.

Barbara rushed toward the shadowy, far corner of the room, where she sought to hide her confusion. She flung herself into a great, easy chair. Something under her moved and wriggled.

"Oh, I say," exclaimed a voice from under her. "Get up. Don't put me out of business, too."

Bab sprang to her feet, her face burning with humiliation. She whirled about and peered into the depths of the chair. There sat a boy of twelve, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm Tom," he informed her. "Lucky for me it wasn't I who stepped on the governor's game foot."

"Oh!" cried Barbara.

"I forgive you for sitting on me, but gracious, you're heavy."

Just at this moment Olive Presby, had hurried across the room. There was deep sympathy in her face as she extended a hand to the embarrassed Barbara.

"Don't mind it at all, dear. It is a thing that occurs to all of us frequently. Polished floors are such a nuisance," said Olive.

The other girls had been introduced to Mrs. Presby in the meantime. It was now Bab's turn, but instead of being first, as Olive had intended, she was last. Her face was still flushed and her eyelids drooped as she was presented.

Mrs. Presby pulled the girl's head down between two warm hands and gazed into her eyes, then kissed Barbara full on the lips.

"Never mind, my dear," she said. "You couldn't help it."

"If I could have a good cry, I know I should feel better," was Bab's plaintive rejoinder.

"Richard, come here, please, and shake hands with Miss Thurston," commanded Aunt Jane in a slightly peremptory tone. Mr. Presby did so, but with apparent reluctance. He had had one experience with the brown-haired girl from Kingsbridge.

"My dears, we want you to come to Treasureholme with us. We cannot spare Olive, so you will have to come to us," smiled Mrs. Presby.

"We want you to come out for Christmas," interjected Mr. Presby rather grudgingly, and as if he were reciting a line from memory.

"Before Christmas," nodded Mrs. Presby. "You must come out this week. Sallie, you will come with them. We shall expect Robert also, though I suppose he will be running away to the city all the time."

"I don't know whether Robert will wish to spare the girls or not. He likes to have them with him as much as possible," said Miss Sallie.

"Treasureholme? What a beautiful name!" breathed Barbara.

"And such a romantic name too," added Mollie soulfully. "I could love the place just on account of its name."

"We call the place 'Treasureholme' because it is or has been supposed to hold a lost treasure. But we have given up that idea. We gave it up a long, long time ago. You will come, won't you, girls? This, in all probability, will be our last Christmas in the old home. We wish to make it a bright and joyous occasion," said Mrs. Presby, with a wan smile. "We have planned to have a Christmas tree. Cousin Robert, you and Sallie can have the gifts delivered at our place just as well as at your home here."

"I shall have to leave it all to Robert," answered Miss Sallie. "Robert's business, as you know, is giving him no little concern these days. He may not care to leave it, and I am certain he would not consent to the girls going away at this time unless it were possible for him to spend at least part of the time with them."

"Then I shall talk with Robert myself," announced Mrs. Presby firmly. She did so then and there. Rather, she went directly to Mr. Stuart's own particular sanctum, where Robert and Mr. Presby were then in consultation over business matters. Mr. Stuart did object to the girls going to Treasureholme to spend Christmas. But Mrs. Presby pleaded with him to let them come. She told him that before another Christmas came Treasureholme would be in other hands. She pleaded with Robert Stuart to let nothing stand in the way of helping them all to have a joyous holiday in the old home.

Mr. Stuart finally gave a reluctant consent. Mrs. Presby hurried back to the library to acquaint the girls with his decision. A merry chatter followed. Everyone talked at once, each making suggestions as to what should be worn and how the Christmas holiday should be spent in the country. As for the "Automobile Girls" from Kingsbridge, the idea of going to the country appealed to them strongly. It would seem almost like being home again. It must be confessed that Bab and Mollie now and then suffered the pangs of homesickness, even though they found so little time for their own thoughts.

It was finally decided that they were to leave for Treasureholme, a distance of more than thirty miles from the city, on the following Monday, three days hence. Mrs. Presby consented to Olive remaining with them until that time, and accompanying the girls to the country in Ruth's motor car. That arrangement stood. The guests declined an invitation to remain to dinner and as soon as the two men had finished their business talk, Mr. and Mrs. Presby took their leave.

Two of the following three days were given up to a round of sight-seeing, paying and receiving calls on friends of the Stuarts, during which time the cylinders of Ruth's automobile scarcely had time to grow cold. Mr. A. Bubble was doing his full duty during these happy days.

Sunday was a day of rest. All were ready for the rest, too. The Kingsbridge girls looked a little more pale than usual, but their eyes were bright and sparkling when Monday morning arrived. It was a clear, frosty morning, with a suggestion of snow in the air. Miss Sallie had risen early, in order to have plenty of time to make all arrangements for their trip. She saw to it also that the girls' wardrobes were properly selected for their stay in the country, and suggested that they have the chauffeur drive them out.

"No, indeed," objected Ruth. "I am not wholly a fair-weather driver. I shall have my heavy gloves. Therefore, my hands will be warm and my feet will be so well occupied with working the brake and control that they won't have time to get cold. Girls, you won't have anything to do, so wrap yourselves up. Auntie, I'm going to get out some of father's heavy coats. He won't need them."

"A jolly good idea," agreed Mollie. "Always provided that the master of the house doesn't object," she added, smiling at Mr. Stuart.

"My dear, if you had lived in this house as long as I have, you would understand that it would make little difference if the master of the house did object," interjected Mr. Stuart.

"Oh, dad," chided Ruth. "How can you say such a thing? You know I am your dutiful daughter."

"You suit me," answered Mr. Stuart, giving the protesting Ruth a quick embrace and a kiss on the forehead. "Yes, take anything you can find in the house. But leave the house. I may need it before I get out of the woods."

A shadow flitted across the face of Ruth Stuart. Then she smiled and kissed her father affectionately. A search for coats was made and a thousand and one details attended to. It was well into the afternoon before they were ready to start, Bab wrapped in Mr. Stuart's long fur coat, the other girls in cloth coats, with the exception of Ruth, who wore her own sealskin coat that reached down to her ankles. A fur cap, silk lined and a pair of fur gloves that looked, Barbara said, like the feet of a bear, completed the outfit.

Mr. A. Bubble was grumbling when the girls emerged from the house. Their bags had been strapped on behind. Inside the automobile there were four foot warmers. Bab and Ruth spurned theirs. With many urgings on the part of Mr. Stuart and Aunt Sallie to be careful, Ruth threw in the clutch, advanced the spark and Mr. A. Bubble wheeled himself slowly away from the house, out into the avenue, then launched into a burst of speed that set at defiance all the regulations of the Windy City.

This was to be an eventful visit. It was to be one full of excitement and adventure, a visit that none of the girls ever would be likely to forget.

They rapidly rolled through the city and in a little while were out in the country, where the land flattened down into a rolling prairie, broken here and there by groups of slender trees and farm buildings.

The snow began to sweep past them in flurries shortly after they cleared the city limits. Ruth stopped the automobile and called upon the girls to assist her in putting on the storm curtains. When they had finished the car was entirely enclosed, a heavy curtain taking the place of the wind shield which the driver had turned down at its middle.

"Isn't this comfy?" chirped Mollie.

It did not prove so "comfy" after all, the way Ruth accelerated the speed, sending the car careening ahead at a high rate.

"Olive," said Bab, mustering courage to introduce a subject that was near to her heart.

"Yes, dear."

"Would you – would you think me too personal if I asked you to tell us the story of the buried treasure of Treasureholme?" she asked hesitatingly.

"Not at all."

"Oh, do tell us," urged Mollie and Grace in one voice.

"I've been just dying to hear about it ever since I first learned there was such a place as Treasureholme. Are there real ghosts there?" questioned Mollie.

"No; no ghosts. But there are memories. Listen, girls, and I will tell you all I know about it," said Olive, settling herself to relate the tale that was to prove of such fascinating interest to the "Automobile Girls."

CHAPTER VI

THE WRECK OF MR. A. BUBBLE

"BURIED treasures are such ravishing mysteries," observed Mollie, while Olive was mentally arranging her facts. "I never thought I should actually be face to face with one."

"I am sure it must be a grand old place," volunteered Barbara.

"In reality, it is very big and bare," smiled Olive. "But I love every foot of the old place where I have lived all my life except when I have been away to school and where my ancestors have lived for oh, ever so many years."

Olive's eyes filled with tears. Barbara stole a groping hand under the robe and clasped one of Olive's. The latter pulled herself sharply together. She gave Bab a grateful look. The sympathy in that gentle hand clasp had meant more than words to her. Perhaps in that one brief moment the two girls came to understand each other better than in all the days that had passed since their first meeting at the opera.

"You know we fully expect to be obliged to give up the place at an early day. Father's business affairs have been going from bad to worse, until now there seems to be no hope of our keeping Treasureholme."

"Perhaps it may not be so bad as you imagine," suggested Bab softly. "'Never give up until you have to.' That is my motto."

"You wouldn't be the Barbara I have heard so much about if it weren't. But to come to the story. Treasureholme has been in our family, as I have already said, for many generations. My ancestor who founded the old place was one of the pioneers here. He was rich when he came here, but he foresaw a great future for what is now Chicago, so he brought his family and all his worldly goods here. He said confidently that a great city was certain to spring up here some day. You see how true was his prophecy. It was almost uncanny as I look at it now."

The girls nodded, but said nothing.

"Gracious! Did you see that?" called Ruth, with a trace of excitement in her tone.

"No, no. What is it?" cried the girls.

"Oh, nothing, only I ran down a cow," answered the fair driver, trying to speak carelessly.

"Ran down a cow!" exclaimed Bab, peering through the curtain windows.

"You needn't look for her. She is a mile or more back now. I didn't run over her. She appeared so suddenly out of the snow cloud that I didn't see her until the car was almost on top of her. I must have hit her only a glancing blow, for I barely felt the jar. I hope I didn't hurt the poor thing."

"So long as we keep on four wheels, please don't interrupt us," begged Miss Presby severely, whereat there was a series of giggles from the girls. "Where was I, girls?"

"Still at Chicago," replied Mollie. "You were speaking of your ancestor's prophecy."

"Oh, yes. At the time they were living in the garrison, at the first fort ever built on the Chicago River. You know the Indians were pretty thick hereabouts at that period."

"Indians!" murmured Grace apprehensively.

"Yes. After a time our ancestors built Treasureholme. That is why it is so old-fashioned now, though many changes necessarily have been made in the house since then, but the main part is practically as it was built by my pioneer ancestor. The boards that were used were laboriously sawed out and the timbers hewn by hand. It must have taken years to build the place. Outwardly it now has a more modern appearance, each succeeding ancestor adding and improving. But for a long time after it was built there were Indians and bad men hereabouts. This perhaps accounts for the secret passages and numerous hiding places in the old house."