The Motor Girls on Waters Blue or The Strange Cruise of The Tartar

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© =) = ee O a ey S .

The Motor Girls’

Series

Contents

News

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THE Lace SELLER JACK ARRIVES .

Chapter II More News

“Ou, Cora!” murmured Bess, rising from the chair, and it was with no easy effort that she did so, for she had allowed herself to sink back again into its luxurious depths. ‘‘ Oh, Cora dear! Isn’t that perfectly dreadful!”

Cora Kimball did not answer. She was staring at the fateful telegram, reading it over and over again; the words now meaningless to her. But | she had grasped their import with the first swift glance. Jack was ill—in trouble.

Bess put her arms around her chum, and slipped one plump hand up on the tresses tangled by the wind on the motor ride.

“Can I do anything—to help—your mother— is she 4

“Of course!” exclaimed Cora with a sigh. ‘ T must tell mother at once. Yes, she’s at home, Bess. Will you—do you mind coming with me?”

** Of course not, my dear. I wouldn’t think of letting you go alone to tell her. Is the telegram from Jack himself?”

“No, it’s from Walter Pennington. Walter says a letter follows—special delivery.”

“Oh, then you'll get it soon! Perhaps it isn’t so bad as you think. Dear Walter is so good!”

““Isn’t he?” agreed Cora, murmuringly. “I sha’n’t worry so much about Jack, now that I know Wally is with him. Oh, but if he has to leave college 2

Cora did not finish. ‘Together she and Bess left the library, seeking Mrs. Kimball, to impart to her the sudden and unwelcome news. And so, when there is a moment or two, during which nothing of chronicling interest is taking place, my dear readers may be glad of a little explanation regarding Cora Kimball and her chums, and also a word or two concerning the previous books of this series.

Cora Kimball was the real leader of the motor girls. She was, by nature, destined for such a position, and the fact that she, of all her chums, was the first to possess an automobile, added to her prestige. In the first volume of this series, entitled ‘‘ The Motor Girls,” I had the pleasure of telling how, amid many other adventures, Cora, and her chums, Bess and Belle Robinson, helped to solve the mystery of a twenty thousand dollar loss.

Cora, Bess and Belle were real girl chums, but they never knew all the delights of chumship until

MORE NEWS II they ‘‘ went in”’ for motoring. Living in the New England town of Chelton, on the Chelton River, life had been rather hum-drum, until the advent of the “ gasoline gigs,’ as Jack, Cora’s brother, slangily dubbed them. Jack, with whose fortunes we shall concern ourselves at more length presently, had a car of his own—one strictly limited to two—a low-slung red and yellow racing car, “‘ giddy and gaudy,” Cora called it.

Later on, the Robinson twins also became possessed of an automobile, and then followed many delightful trips.

“The Motor Girls on a Tour,”’ the second volume of the series, tells in detail of many surprising happenings, which were added to, and augmented, at ‘ Lookout Beach.”

Through New England the girls went, after their rather strenuous times at the seaside, and you may be sure Cora Kimball was in the forefront of all the happenings on that rather remarkable run.

Perhaps the most romantic of all the occurrences that befell the girls were the series at Cedar Lake. There, indeed, were Cora and her chums put to a supreme test, and that they emerged, tried and true, will not be surprising news to those of you who really know the motor maids.

As another summer followed the green spring, so adventures followed our friends, and those on the coast were in no whit tamer than previous happenings. Once again did Cora prove that she could ‘‘ do things,” if such proof were needed.

“The Motor Girls on Crystal Bay; Or, The Secret of the Red Oar,” is the title of the book immediately preceding this one.

It would hardly be fair to tell you, bold-facedly, what the “secret”? was. I would not like a book spoiled for me that way, and I am sure you will agree with me.

But when Cora and her friends made the acquaintance of sad little Freda Lewis, and later on of Denny Shane, the picturesque old fisherman, they had the beginnings of the mysterious secret. And in solving it, they bested the land-sharpers, and came upon the real knowledge of the value of the red oar.

Those incidents had taken place during the summer. Autumn had come, with its shorter days, its longer nights, the chill of approaching frosts and winter, and the turning of leaves, and the girls had bidden farewell to the sad, salty sea waves, and had returned to cheerful Chelton.

Cheerful Chelton—I believe I never thus alliteratively referred to it before, but the sound falls well on my ear. Cheerful Chelton—indeed it was so, and though Cora and her chums had enjoyed themselves to the utmost at Crystal Bay—

MORE NEWS 13 and in so enjoying had done a noble service— still they were glad to get back.

And now

I beg your pardon! I really am forgetting the boys, and as they always have, and seem always destined to play an important part in the lives of the girls, perhaps I had better introduce them in due form.

To begin with, though not to end with, there was Cora’s brother Jack. Like all other girls’ brothers was Jack—a tease at times, but of sterling worth in hours of distress and trouble.

Jack was a junior at Exmouth College, but, bless you! that is not nearly as important as it sounds, and none of my new readers need be on their dignity, or assume false society manners with Jack. For I warn them, if they do, the thin veneer will very soon be scratched off. A true boy was Jack!

So was his chum, Walter Pennington — “Wally,” the girls often called him, though it was not at all an effeminate term of endearment. Walter gave exactly the opposite impression from that. Besides, he was too athletic (which you could tell the moment you looked at him) to further such associations.

Other young men there were, Ed Foster, in particular, who often went motoring with the girls, to make the third male member which caused the little parties to ‘“‘come out even.”

Occasionally Paul Hastings, and his sister Hazel, would be included, but, of late, Paul had been too busy, setting up an automobile business of his own, to ride with his friends.

So much for the boys—though there were more of them, but we need not concern ourselves with them at present.

Bess and Belle Robinson were the daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Perry Robinson—the “ rich’”’ Mr. Robinson, as he was called, to distinguish him from another, and more humble, though none the less worthy, citizen of Chelton. Bess and Belle had nearly everything they wanted—which list was not a small one. But mostly they wanted Cora Kimball, and they looked up to her, deferred to her and loved her, with a devotion that comes only from sweet association since early childhood.

“Cheerful Chelton!” Somehow I cannot seem to forego the temptation of using that expression again. It was a typical New England village, the nearness of it to New York not having spoiled it.

Of late, the invasion of many automobiles had threatened to turn it into a “popular” resort. There was already one garage, and another in building, and to the trained and experienced motorist, no more need be said.

It was to Chelton that Cora Kimball and her

MORE NEWS 15 chums had returned, following their summer at Crystal Bay. Cora, after trying in vain to get some of her chums, by telephone, to come for a little motor run with her, had gone alone, coming back to find Bess at her home, when the events narrated in the initial chapter took place.

Now the two girls were on their way upstairs to impart the news contained in the telegram, to Mrs. Kimball.

‘““Do you—do you think she’ll faint?” asked Bess.

““No—of course not! Mother isn’t of the fainting sort,’ replied Cora, for Mrs. Kimball, a widow since her boy and girl were little children, was used to meeting emergencies bravely and calmly.

““I wonder what could have happened to Jack?” mused Bess, as they reached the upper hall. ‘‘ Do you suppose he could have been hurt playing football, Cora?”

“IT don’t see how. The season hasn’t really opened yet, and they play only light games at first. Besides, Jack has played before, and knows how to take care of himself. I can’t imagine what it is—a nervous breakdown.”

‘Probably Wally’s letter will tell.”

““T hope so. Oh, but, Bess, I didn’t hear your news. You must téll me all about it, my dear.”

“*T will—when this excitement is over.”

Mrs. Kimball received the news calmly—that is, calmly after a first sharp in-taking of breath, and a spasmodic motion toward her heart. For Jack was very dear to her.

‘“‘ Well, my dears, we must hope for the best,” she said, cheerfully, to the girls. ‘* Fortunately, his room is in order, which is more than can be said for it when he went away. Cora, can you look up trains, or, better still, ask the station agent when one might get in from Exmouth. Probably Walter will bring Jack home as soon as he can.

‘““Tt can’t be so very serious, or Walter would have so specified in his telegram. I am anxious to get his letter, however. You might call up the post-ofice, Cora, and find out when the next mail gets in. ‘hen you could go down in your car and get the special. That will be quicker than waiting for the boy to come up on his bicycle with it. ' Often he has half a dozen letters to deliver, and he might be delayed coming to us.”

“Tl do that, Mother. You seem to think of everything!’ and Cora threw her arms about the neck of the gray-haired lady, in whose eyes there was a troubled look, though neither in voice nor manner did she betray it. ‘

“*T can’t imagine Jack ill,’ murmured Bess.

“Nor I,” said Cora. ‘‘ He has always been so strong and healthful. If only it isn’t some accident .

MORE NEWS 17

“Don’t suggest it!” begged Bess. ‘Shall I come with you to the station, Cora?”

“T’d like to have you, dear, if you can spare the time.”

‘As if I wouldn’t make time for such a thing as this. Come, do your telephoning, and we'll go.”

Cora learned that no train which Jack could possibly get would arrive until very late that afternoon, but at the post-office it was said a mail would be in within the hour, and there was a chance that the special delivery letter would be on it.

“We'll go and see,” decided Cora, now again a girl of action.

** And on your way, Cora dear,” requested her mother, “ stop at Dr. Blake’s office, and ask him to meet the train Jack comes on. While I anticipate nothing serious, it is best to be on the safe side, and Jack may be in a state of collapse after his trip. You had better explain to Dr. Blake, rather than telephone.”

“Yes, mother. Now are you sure you'll be all right?”

‘“‘Oh, certainly. I am not alone, with the servants here. Besides, John is just outside, trimming the lawn paths. You won't be long.”

“* No longer than we can help. Come on, Bess. Oh! and now you'll have a chance to tell me what you started to.”

“Oh, it isn’t so much, Cora. In fact, I don’t like to mention my pleasure, after hearing of your trouble.”

“Then it’s pleasure?”

‘“ Yes, Belle seems to think so.”

“Did you mention the West Indies? ”

“Yes, father has to go to Porto Rico on business, and we are going to make a winter cruise of it. Mamma and we girls are going, and what I came over to ask you ~

The voice of Bess was rather lost in the throb of the motor as Cora thrust over the lever of the self-starter. As the two girls settled themselves in the seat, Bess resumed:

‘“*T came over to ask if you couldn’t go with us, Cora? Can’t you come on a winter’s cruise to where there is no snow or ice, and where the waters are blue—so blue?”

“Come with you?” gasped Cora.

“Yes. Papa and mamma specially asked me to come and invite you. Oh, Cora, do say you'll go! It will be such fun! ”

““T’d love to, Bess,” said Cora, after a moment’s thought. ‘‘ But there’s poor Jack, you know. I shall probably have to stay home and nurse him. I can’t leave mother all alone.”

‘Oh, Cora!” murmured Bess, in disappointed tones.

Chapter III The Lace Seller

CorA, Bess and Belle were sitting on the broad, long porch of the Kimball home. It was the next day. To be exact, the day following the imparting of Cora’s news to Bess, of her automobile mishaps, the day of the news which Bess retailed to her friend and chum, concerning the trip to the West Indies, and the still more news, if I may be permitted the expression, of Jack’s sudden illness.

Cora and Bess had gone to the post-office to get the expected special delivery letter, stopping on their way to speak to Dr. Blake, who had agreed to meet any train on which the stricken Jack might be expected. But, as it happened, his services were not required that night, for Jack did not arrive.

To go back a little bit, from the point where we have left the three girls sitting on the porch, Cora and Bess did find the special delivery letter awaiting them in the post-office.

rs

“And I’m glad you called for it,” said Harry Moss, whose duty it was to deliver the bluestamped epistles, “ for I’ve got a lot of ’em this afternoon, and your place is out of my route, Miss Cora.”

All right, Harry,” spoke Cora, half-hearing. She was already tearing open the envelope, as the messenger rode off on his wheel, certainly at a pace to justify the old proverb that he was a rolling stone, even if he had already gathered moss.

“Is it from Walter?” asked Bess.

‘“‘'Yes, and it isn’t as bad as we feared. Jack overtrained, trying for a new position on the football eleven, and that, with some extra studies he undertook, reduced his already tingling nerves to a condition where he was not at all himself.”

“A long rest and a change will set him up again in fine style,” Walter wrote. ‘ There is no need worrying, Cora,” for he had written to her, rather than to Mrs. Kimball, relying on Cora’s discretion to explain matters.

“‘T am bringing Jack home, and we'll come on the early afternoon train, Thursday. There is no great need of haste.”

It was now Thursday, just after lunch, and the girls were waiting at Cora’s house to go down with her, or, rather one of them (to be decided later) to meet Jack and Walter. There was no

THE LACE SELLER 2I need of a physician to help Jack home, though Dr. Blake promised his services when the sufferer should have been safely quartered in his own room.

“Tsn’t it good of Wally to come home with him?” ventured Belle, thoughtfully gazing at her long, thin hands, that were still tanned by the summer’s sun,

“ Perfectly fine!” exclaimed Cora. ‘‘ Oh, you can always depend on Wally,” and her eyes lightened up.

‘**So you can, too, on Jack, for that matter,” voiced Bess, warmly. Bess was, of late, generally regarded as having more than a mere chum’ssisterly feeling for Jack.

‘**T suppose he’ll lose a term,” remarked Belle. ** Too bad, I say.”

** Better that than lose your health,” declared Cora, as she put back a strand of hair that would persist in straying out from under her cap, for she, as well as the others, were attired for motoring, the Robinson twins, in fact, having come over in their car.

“Oh, Cora! I think you look so different with your hair in that new close formation! ” declared Bess. ‘I wish I could get mine to lie down flat at the sides, and over my ears. How do you do it?”

‘* Whisper—i—t’s a secret,” said Cora, smiling. “I found a new kind of hairpin when I was shopping the other day.”

‘‘Oh, do show us!” begged Belle. “I was going to have the permanent wave put in mine, but it costs twenty-five dollars, and it’s awfully tiring, Hazel said. Besides, I think it’s getting rather—common.”

“Do show us, Cora!” begged Bess.

‘* Come inside. I’m not going to turn the porch into a hair-dressing parlor for demonstrations,” laughed Cora. “It won’t take a minute to show you how to do it, and we have plenty of time before Jack’s train is due.”

Cora obligingly let down her pretty hair, and then, by means of the new hairpins, she put it up again, in the latest ‘‘ flat’? mode, which, with its rather severe lines, is far from becoming to the average face. But, as it happened, Cora’s face was not the average, and the different style was distinctly becoming to her.

“Oh, isn’t it simple—when you’re shown?” cried Bess. ‘I wonder if I’d have time to do mine that way before Lea

“ Before Wally sees you!’ interrupted her sister. “No, and don’t think it. He’s probably seen plenty of that style at college, an a

“Thank you! I wasn’t thinking of Mr. Pennington!”” and Bess tried to tilt her chin up in the air with an assumption of dignity that ill sat

THE LACE SELLER 23 upon her, the said chin being of the plump variety which lends itself but poorly to the said tilting.

“Cora, are you there?” asked the voice of Mrs. Kimball from the porch.

“Yes, Mother. I was just showing the girls the new hairpins. We are going to the station directly.”

Cora’s voice floated out of the low French windows, which opened from the library to the porch, and they were swung wide, for the fall tang in the air had vanished with the rising of the orb of day, and it was now warm and balmy.

“Tt will be even warmer than this when we go to the West Indies,’ murmured Bess. ‘“ Oh, Cora, I do wish you were going!”

“So do I, dear! But I don’t see how I can.”

“Hark!” said Belle, softly.

A murmur of voices came from the porch through the low, opened windows.

“It’s one of those Armenian lace peddlers,” said Cora, stooping down to look, as she finished making the twist at the back of her head. “ There’s been a perfect swarm of them around lately. Mother is talking to her, though she seldom cares for lace—such as they sell.”

“There is some beautiful lace work to be had on some of the West Indian islands, so mamma says,’ spoke Belle. ‘I am just crazy to get there!”

“Are you going to spend alk your time on Porto Rico?” asked Cora, as she finished her hair. F

““ Well, most of it, though we shall probably cruise about some,”’ spoke Bess, and as she paused the murmuring of the voices of Mrs. Kimball and the lace peddler could be heard.

“* She doesn’t talk like an Armenian,” ventured Belle. ‘‘She has a Spanish accent.”

“‘'Yes, so she has,” agreed Cora. ‘‘ Oh, girls! You don’t know how I envy you that trip. But— duty first, you know,” and she sighed.

‘“We expect to have a perfectly gorgeous time,” went on Belle, as she settled her trim jacket more snugly over her slim hips. ‘‘ One trip papa has promised us is to Sea Horse Island, not far from Porto Rico. He is going there after orchids—you know he is an enthusiastic amateur collector—and he says some very rare ones grow on Sea Horse. I wish I could send you some, Cora.”

‘It’s awfully sweet of you, but

The girls were interrupted by the darkening of one of the low windows, by a tall, slim shadow. In surprise they looked up to see staring at them a girl whose swarthy, olive-tinted face proclaimed her for a foreigner from some sunny clime.

SHEVLACE SELLER 25

In her hand she held a bundle of lace, which she had evidently taken from her valise to show to Mrs. Kimball. Cora’s mother had arisen from a porch chair, in some wonder, to follow the girl’s movements.

“Pardon Senoritas,”’ began the lace seller, in soft accents, ‘but did I hear one of you ladies mention Sea Horse Island—in ze West Indies? I am not sure—I a

She paused, painfully self-conscious.

““I spoke of it,” said Belle, gently. ‘‘ We are going there on a winter cruise, and. -

** Pardon me—but to Sea Horse Island?” and the girl’s trembling voice seemed very eager.

“We are going there—among other places,” put in Bess, and her voice grew rather colder than her sister’s, for the manner of the lace seller was passing strange.

“*Oh—to Sea Horse Island—in ze West Indies—Oh, if I could but go zere—my father—he is—he is, oh, Senoritas, I crave your pardon, but —but fe

Her voice trailed off in a whisper, and swaying, she fell at the feet of Cora, who sprang forward, but too late, to catch the slim, inanimate burden. The little lace peddler lay in a crumpledup heap on the floor.

CHAPTER IV JACK ARRIVES “Ou, Coral”

“The poor girl!”

Belle and Bess, with clasped hands, bent over the prostrate form of the girl, whose plain black dress showed the dust and travel stains of the highways about Chelton. From the verandah Mrs. Kimball stepped in, through the long window.

‘“Get some water, Cora,” she directed in a calm and self-possessed voice. ‘‘ Also the aromatic ammonia on my dressing table. It is merely a faint. Poor girl! She seemed very weak while she was talking to me. I was just going to ask her to sit down, and let me have a cup of tea brought to her, when she suddenly turned away from me and came in where you girls were.’

‘* She heard us talking,” ventured Bess, a little awed by the strange happening.

‘And she asked the oddest question—about Sea Horse Island—where papa is going—and she spoke of her father—I wonder what she meant?” asked Belle.

“Time enough to find out after we’ve revived her,” suggested Cora, who, like her mother, was not at all alarmed by a mere fainting fit.

Belle, inspired by her chum’s coolness, had stooped over and was raising the girl’s head.

“Don’t do that!” exclaimed Cora. ‘‘ The trouble is all the blood has gone from her head now. Let it remain low and the circulation will become normal, after she has had a little stimulant. I'll get the ammonia,” and she hurried off, stopping long enough to ring for her mother’s maid. 3

The foreign girl opened her dark brown eyes under the reviving stimulus of the aromatic spirits of ammonia, and she tried to speak. She seemed anxious to apologize for the trouble she had caused by fainting.

“That’s all right, my dear,” said Mrs. Kimball, soothingly. ‘‘ Don’t bother your poor head about it. You may stay here until you feel better.”

“ But, senora ”” she protested, faintly.

‘“‘Fush!’’ begged Cora, touching the girl’s hand gently with her own brown fingers. It was a pretty little hand, that of the lace seller—a hand not at all roughened by heavy work. Indeed, if she had made some of the dainty lace she was exhibiting, a piece of which was even now entangled about her, she needs must keep her hands unroughened.

“Oh, but Senorita, I—I am of ze ashamed to be so—to be ’» Again her voice trailed off into that mere faintness, which was as weak as a whisper, yet unlike it.

“Now, not another word!” insisted Mrs. Kimball, in the tone of her daughter, and the Robinson twins well knew she meant to have her own good way. ‘“ You are in our hands, my dear child, and until you are able to leave them, you must do as we say. A little more of that ammonia, Cora, and then have Janet bring in some warm bouillon—not too hot. I believe the poor child is just weak from hunger,” she whispered over the head of the lace seller, whose brown eyes were now veiled with the olive lids.

““Oh!” gasped Bess. ‘“‘ Hungry!”

“Hush! She'll hear you,” cautioned Belle, for somehow she sensed the proudness of those who, though they toil hard for their daily bread, yet have even greater pride than those who might, if they wished, eat from golden dishes—the pride of the poor who are ashamed to have it known that they hunger—and there is no more pitiful pride.

The girl did not show signs of sensing anything of that which went on around her. Even when the second spoonful of ammonia had trickled through her trembling lips, she did not again open her eyes.

‘“ Here is the bouillon,” said Janet, as she came in with some in a dainty cup, on a servette.

“We must try to get her to take a little,” said Mrs. Kimball, who had her arm under the girl’s neck. A dusky flush in the olive cheeks told of the returning blood, under the whip of the biting ammonia.

Some few sips of the hot broth the girl was able to take, but she did not show much life, and, after a close look at her immobile countenance, and feeling of the cold and listless hands, Cora’s mother said:

‘*T think we had better put her to bed, and have Dr. Blake look at her when he comes for Jack.”

“Oh, Jack! JI had almost forgotten about him!’ exclaimed Cora. ‘‘ We must go to the depot. It is almost time for his train.”

‘You have time enough to help me,” said her mother, gently. ‘I think we must look after her, Cora, at least bed

“ Oh, of course, Mother. We can’t send her to the hospital, especially when she seems so refined. She is really—clean!”’ and Cora said the word with a true delight in its meaning. She had seen so many itinerant hawkers of lace who were not—and neither were their wares.

“Oh, she has such a sweet, sweet face,” murmured Belle, who was fair, and who had always longed to be dark.

‘““Is there a bed ready, Janet?” asked Mrs. Kimball.

“Yes, Madam, in the blue room.” The Kimball family had a habit of distinguishing chambers by the color of the wall papers.

“That will do. We'll take her there. I think a little rest and food is all she needs. She looks as though she had walked far to-day.”

A glance at the worn and dusty shoes confirmed this.

““Can we carry her, or shall I call John?” asked Cora, referring to the one man of all work, who kept the Kimball place in order.

‘* Oh, I think we can manage,” said her mother. ‘* She is not heavy.”

It was not until Cora and her mother lifted the girl, that they realized what a frail burden she was in their arms.

‘She’s only a girl, yet ie has the face of a woman, and with traces of a woman’s troubles,” whispered Belle, as Cora and Mrs. Kimball, preceded by Janet to hold aside the draperies, left the room.

“Yes. And I wonder what she meant by speaking of her father and Sea Horse Island in the way she did?” spoke Bess. ‘It sounds almost like a mystery!”

“Oh, you and your mysteries!’ scoffed Belle. “You'd scent one, if an Italian organ grinder stopped in front of the house, looked up at your window, and played the Miserere.”

‘I might give him something to eat, anyhow,” snapped Bess—that is, as nearly as Bess ever came to snapping, for she was so well ‘‘ padded,” both in manners and by nature, that she was too much like a mental sofa cushion to hurt even the feelings of any one.

Cora came down presently, announcing:

“She is better now. She took a little of the bouillon, but she is very weak. Mother insists on her staying in bed. She really seems a very decent sort of a person—the girl, I mean,” added Cora quickly, with a little laugh. ‘She was so afraid of giving trouble.”

“Did she tell anything of herself?” asked Bess.

** She tried to, but mother would not hear of it until she is stronger. I really think the poor thing was starving. She can’t make much of a living selling lace, though some of it is very beautiful,’ and Cora picked up from the library floor the length that had dropped from the girl’s hand.

‘‘ Wasn’t it strange—that she should come in and seem so worked-up over the mention of Sea Horse Island?” spoke Belle.

“Tt was,” admitted Cora. ‘“‘ We shall have to find out about it later—she was on the verge of telling us, when she fainted. But, girls, if Iam to go get Jack, it’s time I started. Are you coming?”

“Suppose we go in our car,” suggested Bess. “You may want all the room you have to spare in yours, Cora, to bring back some of his luggage. And perhaps some of the boys besides Walter may come on from Exmouth with Jack. In that case a