Part 21 (1/2)
It seemed scarcely possible that daylight had come, when a tapping at the door awoke Jack.
”Jack,” called Cora, ”I must speak with you. Come out as soon as you can.”
”Now what's up?” asked Ed with a yawn.
”We've got to get up,” replied Walter, ”and since you managed to get to sleep first, we will give you first whack at the wash basin.”
”Thanks, but help yourself, Wallie,” said Ed, turning over on his single bed, three of which sort were stretched out across the long old-fas.h.i.+oned room. ”This is a fine day for sleeping.”
But in spite of the young man's determination to ”prolong,” he was compelled, by his companions, to join them in a quick was.h.i.+ng and dressing act, and then take breakfast with the motor party on the broad side-porch.
Mrs. Robinson was ill--that was the important piece of information that Cora wished to disclose to Jack.
”We must stay here to-day,” insisted Belle, ”for mamma could never bear to travel with one of her bad headaches. Of course she could not avoid one after the awful experience of last night.”
”Well, this place isn't half bad,” declared Jack, showing his positive regard for the breakfast before him. ”We might all do worse than spend a day at the Wayside.”
He was thinking of the advantage that the stay would give him in making a search for the girl who had lost her package of newly-cut hair. He had not as yet had an opportunity to consult with Cora; in fact, there seemed plenty to do at the Wayside, and it would all require time.
Mrs. Robinson insisted that the young folks enjoy themselves, and go wherever they wished, as she declared, she would be better and quieter with her friend Miss Steel. Miss Steel herself felt none too good after the experience and wetting of the past night, so the two ladies were not annoyed by unnecessary fussing, and unneeded attention.
”Isn't this a wonderful old place, though?” commented Walter, as he, with the others had finished the meal, and all were about to go out exploring. ”Did you see the fireplace in the dining room?”
Thereupon all hands repaired again to the great big old-fas.h.i.+oned dining room, where a few rather delicate-looking persons were still lingering over their coffee.
A waitress, in cap and ap.r.o.n, flitted about the apartment. A second girl brought some extra fruit to a little man, who sat against the wall in the corner, and as the two girls met at the buffet Jack heard the remark:
”Wasn't it mean for them to leave without notice? It will give _us_ a good day's work.”
”Yes,” replied the second girl, ”and napkin day, too. Weren't they in a hurry to get away, though? You'd think some one was after them!”
A t.i.tter from the older girl was interpreted to mean that no one could possibly be after those spoken of. Then both girls picked up some odds and ends from different tables, and left the room.
Jack's heart sank--if a boy's heart ever does anything like that. At least, his hope of finding the runaway girls was, for the time, shattered. He was instantly convinced that the persons to whom the waitresses referred, could be none other than those who were so ardently sought by the motor girls. He was also just as thoroughly convinced that the runaways had already started on a new trail, and were beyond his reach.
Cora, Bess and Belle were in ecstacies over the antique settings of the big room, while Ed and Walter were doing what they could to emphasize the glories of a ”side walk,” as they termed the broad stones, in front of the fireplace.
”Fine for fire crackers on a wet Fourth,” said Walter foolishly.
”Splendid for walnuts on a cold night,” put in Ed with something like common sense.
Jack slipped out unnoticed. He went directly to the inn office.
”If only the girls had not yet left the place,” he was hoping. ”And to think that I should have let them slip through my fingers like that!
Cora will begin to lose faith in me,” he reflected. ”When she finds out that I have not seen the detectives, and when she really identifies the hair as that of----”
At the office he was informed that all the servants of Wayside Inn were in charge of the housekeeper, whose office he would find at the rear, near the pergola.