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CHAPTER III – ROCKING CHAIR ADVENTURES
“Well, girls,” exclaimed Ruth, next morning at the breakfast table, “here we are ready for adventures. But they will have to be early morning or late evening ones. It’s already too hot to breathe.”
“For my part,” observed Miss Sallie, “the only adventure I am seeking is to sit on the shady side of the piazza, in a wicker chair, and read the morning paper.”
“But, Miss Sallie, even that might turn into something,” said romantic Mollie.
“Yes, indeed,” pursued Ruth, “you know the way mamma met papa was by staying at home instead of going to a ball.”
“Why, Ruth!” cried Miss Sallie.
“But it’s quite true, dear Aunt Sallie. Mamma was visiting at a house party in the South, somewhere, and she had a headache and stayed home from a ball, and was sitting in the library. Papa came a-calling on one of the others, and was ushered into the library, by mistake, and introduced himself to mamma – and she forgot her headache and he forgot he was due to catch a train to New York at nine o’clock. It was simply a case of love at first sight.”
“My dear, I am not looking for any such romantic adventures,” said Miss Sallie, bridling. “Your father was an intimate friend of the family at whose house your mother was stopping. It was perfectly natural they should have met, if not that evening, at least another one. I always said your mother showed extreme good sense in staying away from a party and nursing her headache. Not many others would have done the same.” Miss Stuart gave her niece a meaning look, while the four girls suppressed their smiles and exchanged telegraphic glances of amusement.
Not long before Ruth had “doctored” herself up with headache medicine, and had gone to a dance against her aunt’s advice. As a result she had been obliged to leave before the evening was over, more on account of the medicine than the headache, Miss Sallie had believed.
“Dearest little auntie, you have a touch of sun this morning, haven’t you?” asked Ruth, leaning over and patting her aunt’s soft cheek; while Miss Stuart, who was indeed feeling the general oppressiveness of the weather, melted at once into a good humor and smiled at her niece tenderly.
Two persons were rather curiously watching this little scene from behind the shelter of the morning papers. One of them, a very handsome elderly man, seated at a table by the window, had started perceptibly when the party entered the room; and from that moment, he had hardly eaten a bite of breakfast. He was occupied in examining not the fair young girls but Miss Sallie herself, who was entirely unconscious of being the object of such scouting.
The other individual was quite different in appearance. He was dressed in black leather from head to foot, and a motor cap and glasses lay beside him on the table. His evident interest in the conversation of the girls was impersonal, perhaps the curiosity of a foreigner in a strange country. There was some admiration in his eyes as they rested on pretty Mollie’s golden curls and fresh smiling face; but his manner was perfectly respectful and he was careful to conceal his glances by the newspaper.
“That man is rather good-looking in a foreign sort of way,” whispered Mollie.
“Too much blacky face and shiny eye, to suit my taste,” replied Bab. “He looks like a pirate, or a smuggler, in that black leather suit.”
“Dear me, you are severe, Bab,” observed Ruth. “If he were not so young, I should take him for an opera singer on a vacation. He would do nicely dressed as a cavalier.”
“Be careful, my dears; you are talking much too loudly,” admonished Miss Sallie, for the young foreigner had evidently overheard the conversation, and had turned his face away to conceal an expression of amusement.
“I vote we adjourn to the porch,” said Ruth, “until we decide where we are going this morning. Come on, auntie, dear. There may be a rocking chair adventure waiting for you on that shady piazza. I saw a white haired gentleman giving you many glances of admiration, this morning, around the corner of his newspaper. Did you notice it, girls?”
“I did,” replied Grace, somewhat hesitatingly, for she was just a little fearful about entering into these teasing humors with Ruth.
“Don’t be silly, Ruth,” said Miss Sallie. But she glanced quickly over her shoulder, nevertheless, as she led the little procession from the dining room, her lavender muslin draperies floating in the breeze. She stopped in the office and bought a newspaper, then proceeded to the shady piazza, where she seated herself in a rocking chair and unfolded the paper.
The girls leaned over the railing and looked down into the street, while Ruth expounded her views on their morning’s ride.
“Suppose we have a lunch fixed up,” she was saying, “and spend the morning at Sleepy Hollow? It’s lovelier than anything you ever imagined, just what Washington Irving says of it, a place to dream in and see visions.”
A charming tenor voice floated out from an upper window, singing a song in some foreign language.
The girls looked at each other and laughed.
“He did hear us, and he is an opera singer,” whispered Grace.
“I knew it,” came Miss Sallie’s voice from the depths of the paper.
“Knew what?” demanded the four girls somewhat guiltily, as the singing continued.
“Knew that we would all be cremated if we came into these dreadful wild regions,” replied Miss Sallie, as she gazed tragically down the shaded street lined with beautiful old homes.
“But, Miss Sallie,” interposed Barbara in soothing tones, “the fires are up in the Catskills and the Adirondacks, aren’t they? It is only when the wind blows in this direction that we get the smoke from them. Even New York gets it, then; and certainly there is no danger of New York burning up from the forest fires.”
“Very well, my dears, if we do run into one of those shocking conflagrations, you may just recall my words to you this morning.”
The girls all laughed, and there is nothing prettier than the sound of the light-hearted laughter of young girls; at least so thought the tall, military-looking man they had seen at breakfast. He had strolled out on the piazza, and was walking straight toward Miss Sallie with an air of determination that was unmistakable even to the stately lady in lavender.
A few feet from her chair he paused as if a sudden thought had arrested him, and the two looked straight into each other’s faces for the space of half a minute. The girls were fairly dumb with amazement as they watched the little drama. Miss Sallie’s face had flushed and paled before it resumed its natural peachy tone. They could not see the face of the stranger whose back was turned to them.
“Is it possible,” asked Miss Sallie after a moment, in a strange voice, “that this is John Ten Eyck?”
She had risen from her chair, in her excitement, and the newspapers had fallen on the floor with her lavender silk reticule, her fan and smelling salts, her lace-edged handkerchief and spectacle case, all in a confused mass.
“You have not forgotten me, Sallie?” the man demanded, almost dramatically. “I am John Ten Eyck, grown old and gray. I never dreamed that any of my old friends would recognize me after all these years. But are these your girls, Sallie?” he asked, turning with a courtly air to the four young women.
“No, indeed, John,” replied Miss Sallie, rather stiffly, “I have never married. This is my niece, Ruth Stuart, my only brother’s child.” And she proceeded to introduce the others in turn. “Ruth, my child, this is Major John Ten Eyck, an old friend of mine, whom I have not seen for many years. I suppose you have lived in foreign lands for so long you have completely lost sight of your American friends.”
“It has been a great many years,” answered Major Ten Eyck, after he had taken each girl by the hand and had looked into her face with such gentleness and charm of manner as to win them all completely. “It’s been thirty years, has it not, Sallie?”
“Don’t ask me such a question, John Ten Eyck! I’m sure I have no desire to be reminded of how old we are growing. Do you know, you are actually getting fat and bald; and here I am with hair as white as snow.”
“But your face is as young as ever, Sallie,” declared the gallant major.
“Isn’t it, Major Ten Eyck?” exclaimed Ruth, who had found her voice at last. “She is just as pretty as she was thirty years ago, I am certain. Papa says she is, at any rate.”
“So she is, my dear,” agreed the old man as he gazed with undisguised admiration into Miss Sallie’s smiling face.
“Do sit down,” said Miss Sallie, slightly confused, “and tell us where you have been, and what you have been doing these last three decades.”
“It would take too long, I fear,” replied the major, looking at his watch. “I am looking for my two nephews this morning.”
“You mean Martin’s sons, I suppose?” asked Miss Sallie.
“Yes, they are coming down to stay with me at my old place, back yonder in the hills. They are bringing one or two friends with them, and we shall motor over this afternoon if the weather permits. But tell me, what are you doing here? Spending the summer? Don’t you find it a little dull, young ladies?”
“Oh, we are just on a motor trip, too,” replied Ruth. “We are birds of passage, and stop only as long as it pleases us.”
“And have you no men along, to look after you and protect you from highwaymen, or mend the tires when they are punctured?”
“My dear Major,” replied Miss Sallie, “you have been away from America for so long that you are old-fashioned. Do you think these athletic young women need a man to protect them? I assure you that the world has been changing while you have been burying yourself in Russia and Japan. Ruth, here, is as good a chauffeur as could be found, and Barbara Thurston can protect herself and us into the bargain. She rides horseback like a man.” Barbara blushed at the memory of the stolen horseback ride on the way to Newport. “Grace and Mollie are a little bit more old-fashioned, perhaps, and I am as helpless as ever. But two are quite enough. They have got us out of every scrape so far, the two of them.”
The girls all laughed.
Only Barbara, who was leaning on the railing facing the window, saw a figure move behind the curtain, which had stood so still she had not noticed it before.
“Since you are off on a sort of wild goose chase for amusement,” began the major (here the figure that was slipping away paused again), “couldn’t you confer a great honor and pleasure on an old man by making him a visit?”
“Oh!” cried the girls, breathless with delight, remembering the automobile full of youths that would shortly appear.
“Now, Miss Sallie, you see they all want to come,” continued the major. “Don’t, I beg of you, destroy their pleasure and my happiness by declining this request of my old age.”
“Oh, do say yes, Aunt Sallie!” cried Ruth.
And still Miss Sallie hesitated. She had a curious smile on her face as she looked out over the hills and meadows beyond.
“It’s an interesting old place, Sallie,” continued the major. “It was built by my Dutch ancestors, a charming old house that has been added to from time to time. I would like to see it full of young faces once more. What do you say, Sallie? Won’t you make us all happy? The boys and me, and the girls, too? For I can see by their faces they are eager to come.”
“How far is it from here, John,” asked Miss Sallie, doubtfully. “Is it anywhere near those dreadful forest fires?”
“It is fifteen miles back in the country, and I have heard no rumor of any fires in that vicinity lately. The boys and I are leaving this afternoon. We will see that everything is ship-shape, and you and the girls could follow to-morrow. I have an excellent housekeeper. She and her husband were a young couple when I went away, and they have lived at the place ever since. I am certain she can make you comfortable. I will give Miss Ruth explicit directions about the route. It is a fairly good road for motoring. We have a fine place for dancing there, young ladies. There’s a famous floor in what, in my grandmother’s time, we used to call the red drawing-room. There are dozens of places for picnics, pretty valleys and creeks that I explored and knew intimately in my youth. I have some good horses in my stables, Miss Barbara, if you have a fancy for riding,” he continued, turning to Barbara with such grace of manner that she blushed for pleasure.
Looking from one eager face to another, and finally into the major’s kindly gray eyes, Miss Sallie melted into acquiescence and the party was made up forthwith.
The major then pointed out to Ruth and Barbara the street they were to take, which would lead to the road to his old home. He drew a map on a piece of paper, so that they could make no mistake.
“When you come to the crossroads,” he added, as a parting caution, “take the one with the bridge, which you can see beyond. The other road is roundabout and full of ruts besides.”
Just then the horn of an automobile was heard, as a large touring car containing four young men and a deal of baggage, drew up in front of the hotel. At the same time, Barbara, who was still facing the window, saw the figure on the other side of the curtain steal quietly away.
Major Ten Eyck went forward to meet the newcomers, and he and his two nephews had a little earnest conversation together for a few moments. The young men looked up, saw Miss Sallie and the girls, and all four caps came off simultaneously.
“Please don’t go yet,” called the major, as Miss Stuart rose to leave. “I want to introduce the boys first.”
Stephen and Martin Ten Eyck were handsome, sturdy youths, with clear cut features. The two visitors were far different in type; one, Alfred Marsdale, a young English friend, who was spending the summer with the Ten Eycks, and the other, Jimmie Butler, who seemed to have come from nowhere in particular but to have been everywhere.
“And now come along, boys,” urged the major, after he had given the young people a chance to talk a few minutes. “These ladies want their ride, I know, and we must be off for the hall before it gets too hot for endurance.”
With a last caution to Ruth about the proper road to Ten Eyck Hall, and a reminder to Miss Stuart not to break her promise, the major ushered his boys into the hotel office, while “The Automobile Girls” went up to their rooms.
“Isn’t this perfectly jolly, girls?” called Ruth from the mirror as she pinned on her hat.
“De-lighted!” exclaimed Barbara and Mollie, joining the others.
“And listen, girlies, dear! Did you scent a romance?” whispered Ruth.
“It certainly looked very much like one,” replied Barbara.
“They were engaged once,” continued Ruth, “but they had some sort of lovers’ quarrel. The poor major tried to make it up, but Aunt Sallie wouldn’t forgive him, and he went away and never came back, except for flying trips on business. Until to-day she has never seen or heard from him.”
“But she must have cared some, because she didn’t marry anyone else,” observed Mollie reflectively.
“I wonder what he did,” pondered Grace.
“Flirted with another girl,” answered Ruth. “Papa has often told me about it. Aunt Sallie had another lover, at the same time, who was very rich. She kept the two of them dangling on, and it was because she went driving with the other lover that Major Ten Eyck paid devoted attention to some other girl, one night at a ball. So they quarreled and separated.”
“Poor old major!” sighed tender-hearted Mollie.
“But she did have her rocking chair adventure after all,” laughed Barbara, as they started downstairs in obedience to Miss Sallie’s tap a few moments before.
The lovely vistas of valley and river, with intersecting hills, were softened into dream pictures by a transparent curtain of mist, which hid the parched look of the foliage from the long drought.
The five automobilists sped along over smooth roads between splendid estates. Most of the great houses were screened by stretches of thickly wooded parks, and each park was guarded by a lodge, after the English fashion. But there were plenty of charming old houses in full view of the passerby – rambling, comfortable homes set down on smooth lawns.
“How beautiful all this is!” sighed Mollie, as she leaned back in her seat and gazed down the long avenue of trees.
“Yes,” called Ruth over her shoulder. “I took the longest way to the church, because this road is so pretty.”
“Here’s the lane to Sleepy Hollow,” cried the ever-watchful Barbara, and the automobile turned into a country road that appeared to lead off into low-lying hills beyond.
“What is that cloud of dust behind us,” demanded Miss Sallie, looking back.
“It’s a man on a motor cycle,” replied Grace. “He is turning in here, too, but he is slowing up. I suppose he doesn’t want to give us a dusting. Rather nice of him, isn’t it?”
“Fancy a motor cycle and a headless horseman riding in the same lane,” observed Ruth.
“Well, if it came to a race,” replied Barbara, “I think I would take the motor cycle. They do go like the wind.”
“And the noise of them is so terrifying,” went on Ruth, “that the poor headless horseman would probably have been scared back to death again.”
Presently the girls came to a steep declivity in the land that seemed to dip and rise with equal suddenness.
“Is this the Hollow?” asked Mollie a little awed.
“This land is full of hollows, my dear,” answered Miss Sallie, who did not like uneven traveling. “We have been through several already, and, with that hobgoblin on an infernal machine coming after us, and all these dense forests packing us in on every side, and nothing but a lonesome churchyard in front of us, it seems to me we should have brought along some better protectors than two slips of girls.”
Here Miss Sallie paused in order to regain breath.
“I declare,” exclaimed Ruth, “I don’t know which one of these roads leads to the churchyard. Of course we can explore both of them, but we don’t want to miss seeing the old church, and we certainly don’t want to miss lunch. It will be so cheerful picnicking in a graveyard.”
The automobile stopped and the motor cycle, catching up with them just then, stopped also. The rider put his foot down to steady himself, and removing his black leather cap and glasses, bowed courteously to Miss Stuart.
“Is Madame looking for the ancient church?” he asked, in very excellent English with just a touch of accent.
The five women remembered, at once, that this was the stranger whom they had lately seen at breakfast. From closer quarters they saw that he was good-looking, not with the kind of looks they were accustomed to admire, but still undeniably handsome. His features had rather a haughty turn to them, and his black eyes had a melancholy look; but even the heavy leather suit he wore could not hide the graceful slenderness of his figure.
“Yes; we were looking for the church,” replied Miss Sallie in a somewhat mollified tone, considering she had just called him a hobgoblin on an infernal machine. “Will you be good enough to tell us which one of these roads we must take?”
“If you will follow me,” answered the stranger, “I also am going there. You will pardon me if I go in front? If you will wait a moment I will get somewhat ahead, so that madame and the other ladies will not be dusted.”
“I must say he is rather a polite young man,” admitted Miss Sallie, “if he is somewhat rapid in his movements.”
“He is curiously good-looking,” reflected Ruth. “Not exactly our kind, I should say; but, after all, he may be just foreign and different. Just because he is not an American type doesn’t keep him from being nice.”
All the time the foliage was getting more impenetrable. Tall trees reared themselves on either side of the road, seeming vanguards of the forests behind them. A cool, woodsy breeze touched their cheeks softly, and Barbara closed her eyes for a moment that she might feel the enchantment of the place.
“How many Dutch burghers and their wives must have driven up this same grassy road,” she was thinking to herself. “How many wedding parties and funeral trains, too, for here is their graveyard. No wonder a traveler imagined he saw ghosts on this lonely road, with nothing but a cemetery and an old church to cheer him on his way. And here is our auto running in the very same ruts their funny old carriages and rockaways must have made, and this stranger in front of us on something queerer still. I wonder if ghosts of the future will ride in phantom autos or on motor cycles. What a fearful sight! A headless man on an infernal machine – ”
