The Motor Maids Across the Continent Part 5

"Well, anyway, we thought so. And thinking is the same as speaking. That wish has come true because the homesickness has all gone, hasn't it?"

They were obliged to admit that it had. The adventure had dispelled their doleful vapors.

"We should all unite on the third wish, then," said Mary, "seeing that the other wishes were common to everybody."

"What shall it be, then?" demanded Nancy. "Quick, before the luck gets by."

"Foolish child," said Miss Campbell, "I believe that little head of yours is cramful of nonsense."

"You are a doubter, Miss Campbell," objected Nancy. "We shall have to banish you from the magic circle if you feel that way. You cast a dark shadow over the spell."

"Oh, no, dear, don't make me an outsider, I beg of you. I promise not to scoff."

The truth is, Miss Campbell was slightly superst.i.tious herself.

"But what is to be the wish?" they asked.

"Something we all of us want."

It is difficult to make one wish common to five separate and distinct individualities.

"I might wish to get my fifty dollars back," observed Miss Campbell, "only I don't look for miracles."

"We might wish for a safe journey to San Francisco," laughed Billie; "but that would cover too much ground for one wish."

"Suppose we wish to see Peter Van Vechten again soon," suggested Nancy.

Not one of the five ladies who would not have been pleased, secretly of course, to meet once more that strange adventurer of the skies, in spite of the grave suspicion which rested upon him.

"You might ask him for your purse, Cousin Helen," suggested Billie.

"I shall always believe there was some mistake," answered her cousin.

"Anyhow, let's take the chances and wish for another meeting," said Elinor, "then Miss Campbell can say, 'Mr. Van Vechten, kindly restore my property.' Only she won't, because she hates to hurt other people's feelings."

"Very well, then, all at once," cried Nancy, forcing them into a close circle. "Now join hands and close your eyes and make the silent wish.

Concentrate two minutes."

"Nancy, dear, I think you have been studying dream books," exclaimed Miss Campbell, amused at this ridiculous mummery.

Nevertheless, at precisely two minutes to one o'clock by the timepiece on the mantel, five pairs of hands joined together and five identical and simultaneous wishes went forth into s.p.a.ce. Five little thought messengers linked together by a single wish, went out together into the vast universe. Then they separated and each took a different direction in search of that mysterious birdman, whose eyes at least were clear and brown and honest. And the first little winged thought who found Peter Van Vechten was to summon his aerial brothers from the ether. Promptly they would join hands and dancing in a circle about his head, as each pa.s.sed an ear would whisper the message.

When the clock struck one the Motor Maids and Miss Campbell unlocked hands, and smiling quite gravely, considering it was all a joke, proceeded with their toilet for the luncheon of glorious antic.i.p.ation.

That Mr. Daniel Moore's establishment was guiltless of any woman's touch was plainly evident. There was not a sign of femininity about it. It was as bare as a barracks and as plain as an old shoe. But the beds were soft and comfortable, as Miss Campbell could testify, for she took a nap on one of them in the interval which must be spent before lunch was announced.

After the girls had fluffed up their front hair or smoothed it out according to custom, and had brushed every fleck of dust from their neat traveling skirts, and washed the stains of the journey from their fresh young faces, they began to look about the rooms, to peer from the windows and peep into the hall, while they talked in whispers.

On a shelf in one of the rooms were some books, the one human touch they noticed. Mary, always a bookworm, began dipping her inquisitive little nose into these immediately. She had opened a volume of Kipling's poems and was reading aloud in a sing-song voice:

"On the road to Mandalay, Where the flying fishes play--"

when something fell from between the pages into her lap. It was a souvenir postcard, which had, apparently, been serving as a book-mark.

Without meaning to pry, Mary picked it up and turned it over to look at the picture on the other side, which proved to be a photograph of a lovely girl holding a Boston bull terrier on a leash. She was tall and slender, and seemed to sway toward them from the picture like a young tree in the wind. It had evidently been quite breezy when the picture was taken, for one hand grasped her broad-brimmed felt hat, while the other held the dog leash. She was smiling, too, and there was a gay light in her eyes which seemed to challenge the whole world to make her sad.

Mary had not meant to read the message written across the picture, but is it ever possible to examine a picture on a postcard without taking in the words at the bottom? Besides, it was a harmless message:

"A snapshot smile from Evelyn.

Salt Lake City, Utah."

Now, Salt Lake City was a place of intense interest to the Motor Maids.

They regarded it as a traveler in the Orient might look upon one of those mysterious Eastern cities where women went veiled and faces peeped at one from behind obscure gratings.

"Do you suppose this pretty girl is a Mormon?" exclaimed Mary, exhibiting the photograph.

"She is much too pretty to be a Mormon," said Nancy decisively.

"Can't Mormons be handsome?" asked Billie, looking at the postcard over Nancy's shoulder.

"They are just like other people, goosie," put in Elinor, nevertheless looking at the picture with extreme interest.

"I always imagined the men were tall and thin with lantern jaws and long white beards, and the women were small and plain with straight hair twisted into scraggy little knots behind."

They were still laughing over Nancy's vague idea of the citizens of Salt Lake City when the j.a.panese servant gave them a start by appearing at the door as noiselessly as one who walked on air.

"Luncheon is served," he announced rapidly in a funny high voice.

It was almost impossible to conceal from him their eagerness to be at table. Nancy secretly hoped there would be fried chicken, but she didn't care really if only there were no canned vegetables in bird-seed dishes.

They all wondered if their host would be able to appear despite his maimed leg.

But he was there to meet them, waiting in the living room of the farmhouse, which was fitted up quite comfortably with big easy chairs, an immense writing table, and many books on shelves lining the walls.

Mr. Moore's wholesome, manly face showed not a trace of the pain he had endured an hour ago, and when he led the way to the dining room, it was with only a slight limp.

"But I thought you had a bad sprain, Mr. Moore," said Miss Campbell, "and here I find you walking as well as any of us."

"It's all gone," he answered. "I-" he hesitated a moment. "I--"

But the fragrance of the viands about to be set before them drove all other thoughts from their minds.

It was all a curious adventure, indeed. Here was an entire stranger dispensing hospitality to them most graciously, and here were they, even that fastidious and dainty little lady, eating with appet.i.tes of starving people.

There was no fried chicken, but there were beefsteak and mushrooms and new potatoes and asparagus, a very fine expensive salad made of grapefruit, and as a last perfect touch, strawberries and cream.

The motor party had planned to leave Mr. Moore's place half an hour after lunch and start on their travels again, but while they feasted black clouds had been piling themselves into a formidable storm and now came flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder. The house grew so dark that Takamini lit some candles and placed them on the table.

Then came the rain, pouring in torrents.