The Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Part 24

"Come along," exclaimed Edward Bacon, almost brusquely. "There's no time now to cry over spilt hats. We'll have to beat it to some house out of the rain."

Nancy was nearly carried by two of her cavaliers as she ran. They rushed up a wood path which led apparently to a pretty little rustic house in a garden. And as the rain was now falling in torrents, they rushed through the open door into the hall without waiting for an invitation.

CHAPTER XVI.-STOLEN HOSPITALITY.

Once in the hallway, the young people gazed rather fearfully about. But the place seemed quite empty of all human beings, although every door was stretched wide open; and through the long windows in the little drawing-room opening straight onto the lawn the rain was beating furiously.

"You had better shut up everything," ordered Edward Bacon. "The place will be flooded in a minute."

There were several bedrooms on the same floor, the villa being a one-story cottage; but they also were empty, as could be plainly seen from the open doors. Presently the students had closed all the cas.e.m.e.nts against the driving rain and gathered in the drawing-room.

"I feel like Goldilocks and the three bears," remarked Nancy, half laughing and half crying as she sat down in the drawing-room and looked about her with the air of a martyred saint.

We are obliged to admit that Nancy, having sacrificed her best hat, felt that she had made sufficient recompense for her sins.

The room was very simply furnished with wicker chairs and chintz curtains, but it possessed the peculiar charm of the English cottage with its deep cas.e.m.e.nt windows, low ceilings and polished hardwood floors.

"I don't seem to know this house," observed the young man named Bulger.

"I was here last spring," said Bixby. "It was closed then. The owner is usually abroad, a gardener told me."

"Well, whoever he is, I hope heaven will reward him for giving us shelter in the time of storm," remarked Edward.

Nancy s.h.i.+vered.

"Miss Brown is cold," exclaimed one of the students. "Do you suppose the proprietor would mind if we set a match to his logs?"

"We'll take the risk," said another, lighting a pile of wood in the open fireplace.

"Polly, put the kettle on and we'll all have tea," commanded Edward, pointing to a tray on a wicker table on which were tea things ready for use.

The young man answering to the name of "Polly" obediently started the flame on the alcohol lamp, and another student, growing bolder still, penetrated the kitchen premises of the villa and returned with a handful of cups and saucers.

"Might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb," observed Edward. "Did you find any bread and b.u.t.ter in the larder?"

"No; tea biscuit,-a tin full," cried "Polly," depositing a tin box on the table.

All this time Nancy Brown, enthroned in the largest and most comfortable chair in the room, was being waited on like a small queen.

Her curls had curled closer from the dampness; her little feet on the bra.s.s fender were drying comfortably and the uneasy thought of how she was to explain things to Miss Helen Campbell was stowed away somewhere in the back of her mind.

"Here's to our host, whoever he is," exclaimed Edward, raising his cup of tea and then putting it to his lips. "Whoever he is, may he be granted peace and prosperity for his unconscious hospitality."

"And how do we know it's a man?" demanded Nancy.

"Because there's not a trace of femininity in the whole room," said Edward. "There are pipes and tobacco jars and a box of cigars. Here are some scientific magazines and books,-do you think any woman would read those?"

"There's a boy here," put in another student, holding up a rubber ball in one hand and a book of fairy tales in the other.

"Wouldn't a girl play with a ball and read fairy tales?" asked Nancy, feeling that she must stand up for the rights of her s.e.x even in the matter of games and books.

"Oh, of course. But she wouldn't play with lead soldiers, would she?"

asked Bixby, displaying a small toy soldier he had found on the floor.

"Marvelous! Marvelous!" said Bulger. "And now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, what other facts do you gather from this slight evidence?"

"I should say, my dear Watson," answered Bixby, pulling a cap over his eyes and folding his arms, "that the owner of the villa was of small stature. I judge that from the size of his foot." He held up a man's bedroom slipper that he had drawn from under Nancy's chair. It was indeed hardly larger than a boy's slipper. "He is a widower with one son. He lives abroad most of the time and comes to Oxford in the spring because he loves nature; so much so that he goes out walking and forgets to notice what the weather is. He is a man of studious habits because he has a student's lamp and slippers ready for comfort the instant night drops her sable curtain. He is a small, amiable character, hospitable, as we can testify, with refreshment ready for all chance guests from one to eight or nine. He is agreeable--"

"How do you know that?"

"His house-his house, my dear Watson. Can't you see that only a person of an amiable, trusting nature would go out and leave every door and window stretched wide? We will picture to ourselves, then, the hospitable owner of this villa as a small, dapper, wholesome gentleman with an amiable heart and a gentle nature--"

A heavy step was heard in the hall; a shadow darkened the doorway and a shrill strident voice exclaimed:

"Well, I never!"

Instantly nine pairs of eyes were focused in the same direction. There were nine simultaneous exclamations of one sort or another. Polly stifled a laugh. Nancy cried "Oh!" Edward Bacon was heard to say in a deep ba.s.so: "Caesar's ghost!"

There entered the room a female person of tremendous size and proportions. Only one woman in the world could be as huge as that. Nancy looked at her face closely and shrank back in her chair. It was Felicia Rivers.

She was dripping wet. Streams of water ran down her ample sides and she shook herself like a sea lion, scattering the moisture about her in every direction.

"You are the Master's friends, young gentlemen, I suppose?" she observed.

"We hope so," answered Edward Bacon, somewhat doubtfully.

"And where is the master?"

"Held up by the shower, I suppose. We came in and helped ourselves, you see. We were in the worst of it, and this young lady was so cold."

If Felicia Rivers recalled Nancy, she made no sign of any recognition.

Indeed, she only gave the young girl a pa.s.sing glance.

"I am the new housekeeper," she announced.

"Have a cup of tea?" suggested Edward.

"It would be most grateful, young gentlemen. I'm that wet and tired. I hope I may never take another railway journey. London's the place for me, gentlemen. I ain't the one to make excursions to the country. I'm a very 'ospitable person an' I likes my own home, an' a very nice 'ome it is, young sirs; Jetson Terrace-large, light an' airy rooms; good service and candles prowided."

Nancy stifled a laugh when she recalled Miss Felicia Rivers' lodging house. She seemed to see the great creature again sitting before the kitchen fire eating sausages and b.u.t.tered toast while she murmured: "Large, light and airy rooms; good service; candles prowided."

Miss Rivers sat down and sipped her tea comfortably.

One of the students glanced uneasily out of the window.