The Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Part 12

The little lady paused and blinked her eyes mysteriously.

"And what, dearest Cousin?" cried Billie.

"Oh, do tell us, Miss Campbell," exclaimed the others.

"Tell you what, my dears?"

"Why are we to put on our best evening dresses?"

"Don't you like to dress up?" she asked mischievously.

"Of course," exclaimed Nancy.

"Cousin Helen, you're a naughty little tease," cried Billie. "You have been keeping a secret from us all this long time."

Miss Campbell's peach-blossom face became inscrutable and her deep blue eyes widened innocently.

"Is there going to be a surprise?" asked little Mary in her sweet high voice.

"Is that what the note was that came not long ago?" demanded Elinor.

"I knew you had something on your mind," put in Billie. "I can always tell."

"It must be a perfectly delightful secret," observed Nancy, "because we are to wear our best clothes."

"But what is it?" they demanded, dancing around the charming little woman in an ecstasy of curiosity.

"If I told you, my dears, you wouldn't get a wink of sleep for excitement."

"But we are just as excited from not knowing," cried Billie.

"Perhaps it's tickets to the opera," guessed Elinor, her thoughts always on music.

"It must be a dinner party," said Nancy.

"Or a theater party."

"We are not going to meet the Queen?" asked Mary innocently.

This was too much for the gravity of the other girls and for Miss Campbell, too, who loved a good laugh, and the room was filled with merriment.

"No, dear, we're not going to meet the Queen, at least not yet," said Miss Campbell, kissing Mary's quiet, gentle face.

"Is it to be a party?"

"Of course. Else why wear your very best frocks?"

"But a big party?"

"No, a small one."

"Is it to be here?"

"I shall not say," said Miss Campbell firmly. "I shall not say another word."

"Then we are really not to know?" they cried desperately.

"No, you are to sleep for a long time, and do as I say. I have given my promise and I shall say no more."

And off sped Billie's tantalizing relation to her own room, the silk draperies of her negligee sweeping after her in lavender billows.

"I'll only tell you this much," she added, when she reached the door.

"It's the very nicest surprise you could possibly imagine, and there is not one person here who will be disappointed. Now, off to your beds, every one of you."

She closed the door softly, leaving the four Motor Maids in a state of excited perplexity which no amount of discussion and conjecture could satisfy.

At length, feeling a great need for sleep, they obediently retired to their rooms and their beds.

The sun had broken through the mist and was s.h.i.+ning brightly when Billie and Nancy awoke. There were spring noises in the street, the sound of distant music and the call of a flower vendor who was selling pots of rose geraniums and pansies. Billie opened her window and looked down into the garden below. How sweet the air was and how fresh and lovely the whole world! Already yesterday's experience had faded into a strange, unreal dream.

"Listen," whispered Nancy, "there is music in the room below."

Through the open window there floated to them the sound of piano playing; first a few introductory chords on the piano and then, to a running, delicious accompaniment, a lovely soprano voice began singing.

They climbed back into the great four-post bed and curled up under the covers, and presently the words of the song were inextricably mixed with their dreams. This was the song that floated up to them:

"Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown.

Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the roses blown.

"There has fallen a splendid tear From the pa.s.sion flower at the gate.

She is coming, my love, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate.

The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near'; The white rose weeps, 'She is late'; The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear'; And the lily whispers, 'I wait'."

CHAPTER IX.-THE SURPRISE.

It was seven o'clock and they were all dressed and waiting for the surprise. For some reason they had had an idea it might come walking on two legs up the street or else riding in a hansom cab, and the four young girls had stepped onto the balcony outside their window. An occasional pa.s.ser-by in that quiet quarter looked up with admiration at those four bright, eager faces watching each newcomer below. Their dainty muslin frocks gleamed softly white against the pink brick walls of the old house. Miss Campbell in a beautiful blue marquisette stood just inside the window with a mysterious little smile on her face.

The young girls did not hear the light tap on the door nor notice that she had turned to open it.

"Come in," she whispered. "I haven't told them yet, although it was really very hard to resist their pleadings."

A woman tiptoed into the room. She was tall and dark and very beautiful, so beautiful that Miss Campbell blinked her eyes for a moment as if she had been looking at the sun. The visitor's arms were filled with flowers.

"I have brought you each a bouquet," she whispered. "I remembered, Miss Campbell, that you always loved forget-me-nots, and they will just match your dress to-night. Will you wear these for me?"

Miss Campbell's exclamation of pleasure drew the attention of the watchers on the balcony to the visitor. They peeped shyly in through the window. Here was the surprise at last! A vision in a beautiful white dress, her arms filled with violets and roses! But who was she?