herself, and with a voice whose calmness surprised her, she said, “Please, Mrs. Farrington, could you get me a sandwich out of the basket?”
“Bless you, no, child!” said that lady, her attention instantly diverted by Patty’s ruse. “That is, I don’t believe I can, but I’ll try.”
Patty was far from wanting a sandwich, but she felt that she had at least averted the possible danger of Mrs. Farrington’s suddenly clutching Roger, and as she turned back to face the front, the great car whizzed across the slippery railroad track, just as Patty saw the headlight of a locomotive not two hundred feet away from them.
“Oh, Roger,” she breathed, clasping her hands tightly, lest she herself should touch the boy, and so interfere with his steering.
“It’s all right, Patty,” said Roger in a breathless voice, and as she looked at his white face, she realised the danger they had so narrowly escaped.
Those in the back seat could not see the train, and the roar of the storm drowned its noise.
“Patty,” said Roger, very softly, “you saved us! I understood just what you did. I felt sure Mother was going to grab at me, when she heard that whistle. It’s a way she has, when she’s nervous or frightened, and I can’t seem to make her stop it. But you saved the day with your sandwich trick, and if ever we get in out of the rain, I’ll tell you what I think of you!”
Chapter XIV.
Pine Branches
There were still many miles to cover before they reached their destination, but there were no more railroad tracks to cross, and as there was little danger of meeting anyone, Roger let the car fly along at a high rate of speed. The storm continued and though the party endeavoured to keep cheerful, yet the situation was depressing, and each found it difficult not to show it.
Roger, of course, devoted his exclusive attention to driving the car, and Patty scarcely dared to breathe, lest she should disturb him in some way.
The three on the back seat became rather silent also, and at last everybody was rejoiced when Roger said, “Those lights ahead are at the entrance gate of Pine Branches.”
Then the whole party waxed cheerful again.
Mr. Farrington looked at his watch. “It’s quarter of two,” he said, “do you suppose we can get in at this hour?”
“Indeed we will get in,” declared Roger, “if I have to drive this car smash through the gates, and bang in at the front door!”
The strain was beginning to tell on the boy, who had really had a fearful night of it, and he went dashing up to the large gates with a feeling of great relief that the end of the journey was at hand.
When they reached the entrance, the rain was coming down in torrents. Great lanterns hung either side of the portal, and disclosed the fact that the gates were shut and locked.
Roger had expected this, for he felt sure the Warners had long ago given up all thought of seeing their guests that night.
Repeated soundings of the horn failed to bring any response from the lodge-keeper, and Roger was just about to get out of the car, and ring the bell at the large door, when Patty’s quick eye discerned a faint light at one of the windows.
“Sure enough,” said Roger, as she called his attention to this, and after a few moments the large door was opened, and the porter gazed out into the storm.
“All right, sir, all right,” he called, seeing the car; and donning a great raincoat, he came out to open the gates.
“Well, well, sir,” he said, as Mr. Farrington leaned out to speak with him, “this is a night, sure enough! Mr. Warner, sir, he gave up looking for you at midnight.”
“I don’t wonder,” said Mr. Farrington, “and now, my man, can you ring your people up, and is there anybody to take care of the car?”
“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” said the porter, “just you drive on up to the house, and I’ll go back to the lodge and ring up the chauffeur, and as soon as he can get around he’ll take care of your car. I’ll ring up the housekeeper too, but she’s a slow old body, and you’d best sound your horn all the way up the drive.”
Roger acted on this advice and The Fact went tooting up the driveway, and finally came to a standstill at the front entrance of Pine Branches.
They were under a porte-cochère, and as soon as they stopped, Elise jumped out, and began a vigorous onslaught on the doorbell. Roger kept the horn sounding, and after a few moments the door was opened by a somewhat sleepy-looking butler. As they entered, Mr. Warner, whose appearance gave evidence of a hasty toilet, came flying down the staircase, three steps at a time.
“Well, well, my friends,” he exclaimed, “I’m glad to see you, I am overjoyed to see you! We were expecting you just at this particular minute, and I am so glad that you arrived on time. How do you do, Mrs. Farrington? And Elise, my dear child, how you’ve grown since I saw you last! This is Patty Fairfield, is it? How do you do, Patty? I am very glad to see you. Roger, my boy, you look exhausted. Has your car been cutting up jinks?”
As Mr. Warner talked, he bustled around shaking hands with his guests, assisting them out of their wraps, and disposing of them in comfortable chairs.
Meantime the rest of the family appeared.
Bertha Warner, a merry-looking girl of about Patty’s age, came flying downstairs, pinning her collar as she ran.
“How jolly of you,” she cried, “to come in the middle of the night! Such fun! I’m so glad to see you, Elise; and this is Patty Fairfield? Patty, I think you’re lovely.”
The impulsive Bertha kissed Patty on both cheeks, and then turned to make way for her mother.
Mrs. Warner was as merry and as hearty in her welcome as the others. She acted as if it were an ordinary occurrence to be wakened from sleep at two o’clock in the morning, to greet newly arrived guests, and she greeted Patty quite as warmly as the others.
Suddenly a wild whoop was heard, and Winthrop Warner, the son of the house, came running downstairs.
“Jolly old crowd!” he cried, “you wouldn’t let a little thing like a tornado stop your progress, would you? I’m glad you persevered and reached here, even though a trifle late.”
Winthrop was a broad-shouldered, athletic young man, of perhaps twenty-four, and though he chaffed Roger merrily, he greeted the ladies with hospitable courtesy, and looked about to see what he could do for their further comfort. They were still in the great square entrance hall, which was one of the most attractive rooms at Pine Branches. A huge corner fireplace showed the charred logs of a fire which had only recently gone out, and Winthrop rapidly twisted up some paper, which he lighted, and procuring a few small sticks, soon had a crackling blaze.
“You must be damp and chilly,” he said, “and a little fire will thaw you out. Mother, will you get something ready for a feast?”
“We should have waited dinner,” began Mrs. Warner, “and we did wait until after ten, and then we gave you up.”
“It’s nearer time for breakfast than for dinner,” said Elise.
“I don’t want breakfast,” declared Roger, “I don’t like that meal anyway. No shredded whisk brooms for me.”
“We’ll have a nondescript meal,” said Mrs. Warner, gaily, “and each one may call it by whatever name he chooses.”
In a short time they were all invited to the dining-room, and found the table filled with a variety of delicious viands.
Such a merry tableful of people as partook of the feast!