Patty's Motor Car

CHAPTER XIII

PATTY’S INGENUITY

Philip turned the car around, and, in a few moments, they were swiftly speeding toward home.

“It’s awfully good of you,” he said, “to give me this little bit of your time all to myself.”

“I don’t think I gave it,” observed Patty, smiling; “I think you took it when I wasn’t looking.”

“Yes, and when no one else was looking, or I mightn’t have succeeded so well. But it’s been a gorgeous ride, and now I’m going to take you right back to home and mother. Do you suppose those people who went to see the ocean are still looking at it? If so, it will be fun to drive right down to them.”

“Oh, don’t try it! Camilla cuts up dreadfully if she gets stuck in the sand. It’s the one thing she won’t stand!”

“All right, we’ll go right, straight, bang home, then. Whew! We have come farther than I thought! We can’t see the lights of Spring Beach yet.”

“No; but I know where we are. It’s about three miles to Spring Beach. Put on a good speed, and we’ll soon do it. There’s not a thing in the road, and I’ll trust your fast driving.”

“All right, my lady; here goes!” Van Reypen flung in the highest speed and they fairly flew. And then, quite suddenly and without any jar or jolt, or warning of any kind, they found themselves sitting quite still. Camilla had stopped of her own accord, and seemed absolutely disinclined to proceed. There was no noise and no fuss, the car simply stood motionless.

“What did you stop for?” asked Patty, turning an enquiring face toward Van Reypen.

“I didn’t stop; she stopped herself. Your friend Camilla is not in such haste to get home as you are, and she wants to see the moonlight on the sea once again.”

“Nonsense! Didn’t you truly stop the car?”

“No, truly I didn’t, and, what’s more, I can’t make it go on.”

“Then something has happened!”

“Right-o! How clever of you to guess that! But it’s your car, and you know its tricks and its manners. What does it mean when she stops like this, gently but firmly?”

“I don’t know;” and Patty looked blankly bewildered. “She’s never done such a thing before. Of course something must be out of order, – but I can’t think what. The tires are all right.”

“Yes, of course; it isn’t a puncture. But I can’t think myself what it can be. Well, I’ll have to overhaul the engine and see what I can see.”

Van Reypen got out and began to investigate, but he could find nothing wrong in any part. “Has the charge given out?” he asked.

“No, the batteries are all right. It was fully charged this morning, and I used it very little to-day. She’s good for eighty or ninety miles easily, and I haven’t run twenty to-day.”

“Then, I give it up. I do know something about cars, but I’m much more experienced with the gasoline motors. However, this is so beautifully made, and yet so really simple of construction, that I feel I ought to understand it. You get out, and take a look.”

Philip held the lamp while Patty peered anxiously into the motor.

She didn’t understand fully all the complicated parts, but she had a fair working knowledge of its main principles, and she, too, was unable to discover anything wrong or out of order.

“We’re in a lovely mess,” she observed, cheerfully, as she stood looking at Philip.

“Yes, we’re up against it,” he rejoined, but his tone was as cheerful as her own, and they both laughed as they looked at each other. For, given a moonlight night, and two merry young people, it is not difficult to look on the bright side of a motor misfortune.

“Now,” said Patty, philosophically, “what do we do next?”

“I’m not very familiar with this locality, but, if there were any chance of a big car coming along, we’d ask them to tow us. The running gear of this car is all right.”

“Yes, and so is the steering gear. And the batteries seem to be in perfect order. I can’t imagine what’s the matter. However, I can inform you there’s precious little chance of any car coming along this way now. Seashore people always go to bed early, and they never ride at night, anyhow. No, we’ll have to walk home.”

“And leave the car here?”

“Yes; I hate to do it. But nobody can steal her, for she won’t go.”

“But somebody might steal her and tow her away. That is, if a car should come along, and we weren’t here.”

“Oh, I can’t bear to think of that! I don’t want to lose my beautiful car! What can we do?”

“I don’t see anything to do but to sit here in the car all night, and of course we can’t do that. Nor can one of us go and one stay, for I wouldn’t let you go alone, and I’m sure I wouldn’t let you stay here alone.”

“I think I’ll go,” said Patty, slowly. “You stay with the car, and I’ll walk home alone. It’s only three miles, and I’m sure it’s perfectly safe; there’s no one abroad at this time of night.”

“Patty, I can’t let you do it;” and Philip Van Reypen looked deeply troubled. “I can’t let you walk those three miles, alone, late at night.”

“But you don’t want to go and leave me here, sitting alone in a broken-down motor car?”

“No; I can’t do that, either.”

“And we can’t both go, – and we can’t both stay! So it’s a dead – what do you call those things?”

“A deadlock?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. If neither of us can go, and neither of us can stay, and we can’t both go, and we can’t both stay, isn’t that a pretty good imitation of a deadlock?”

“It certainly is! Now, in those lovely motor car novels that people write, somebody would come along just in the nick of time, and fix everything all right, and we’d all live happy ever after.”

“Yes; but we’re not in a novel, and I’m positive nobody will come along so late. What time is it?”

“A little after eleven,” said Philip, looking at his watch. “Patty, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I got you into this scrape, and I must figure some way to get you out! But it hasn’t come to me yet.”

Philip’s face was a picture of despair. He suddenly realised his responsibility in bringing Patty out here at night. It was done on a sudden impulse, a mere frolicsome whim, and, if the car hadn’t broken down, all would have been well.

“Don’t take it too seriously, Philip,” said Patty, in a pleading voice, for, now that she saw how he felt, she was sorry for him. “We’ll get out of this somehow! But, truly, I think the only way is for me to walk home and send father’s big car back for you and Camilla. I sha’n’t mind the walk half as much as I should mind sitting here, and waiting while you go.”

“But, Patty, you can’t walk three miles in those little, high-heeled slippers.”

Patty looked down at her little evening shoes, with their French heels. They were not suitable for a three-mile walk, but that was a secondary consideration. “I must go,” she said; “there is no other way.”

“Then I’m going with you,” declared Philip, stoutly. “And, if anybody steals that car, I’ll give you another one exactly like it! I’ll have it built to order, with the same specifications! This whole affair is my fault, and I’m going to get you out of it the best way I can.”

“It isn’t your fault! I won’t have you say so, just because that stupid old car chose the worst possible moment to break down! But, all the same, I don’t know how I can walk three miles in these high-heeled slippers with you any better than I could without you.”

Philip grinned. “When you get tired, I’ll carry you,” he declared. “I tell you I’m going to get you out of this scrape, if it takes all summer!”

“Well, it will, unless we start pretty soon. Come on, then.”

“Wait a minute. Suppose I take those heels off your shoes. Couldn’t you walk better then?”

“Oh, fiddlesticks! I’m accustomed to high heels. I can walk in them all right.”

“Yes; and, first thing you know, they’ll throw you, and you’ll twist your foot, and sprain your ankle – ”

“Well, then you will have to carry me,” said Patty, laughing. “But, before we start, do let’s try once more to make the car go. Maybe it’s nothing but perverseness.”

But their efforts were unavailing, and Camilla stood stock-still in the middle of the road, as if she never intended to move again.

“It would be like the One-Hoss-Shay,” said Patty, “only in that, you know, every part dropped to pieces; and here nothing’s the matter with any part.”

“But there must be something the matter,” declared Philip, who was once again examining the batteries; “and, by jingo, Patty, – I’ve found it!”

“You have! What is it?”

“Why, the battery strap has separated, that’s all!”

“What is the battery strap? I don’t see any strap.”

“Oh, it isn’t a leather strap; it’s this band of lead that goes around the battery, but they call it a strap. See this crack across it?”

“Oh, that little crack! Does that do any harm?”

“Why, yes, of course; it completely stops the current. You see, the two ends of the strap almost touch; if they did touch, we’d be all right. Now, if I had a little piece of lead to connect those two parts where they are separated, I could fix it in a jiffy! Got any lead?”

“I don’t know. Look in the tool-box.”

“Just a little piece of lead wire, or anything that’s lead.”

“Try a lead pencil,” said Patty, but Philip was poking in the tool-box and paid little attention to her mild joke.

“There isn’t a lead thing here!” he exclaimed. “Your tool-box is too everlastingly cleared up! Every tool in a little pocket by itself! Why don’t you have a whole lot of old rubbishy junk; then we might find something for an emergency?”

“Can’t you find anything that will do?”

“Not a thing! To think that, now we’ve found out what the trouble is, we can’t mend it! and such an easy break to mend, if I just had a scrap of lead. Well, we may as well make up our minds to walk.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Patty; “I didn’t mind walking so much when I thought the car had really broken down. But just that little bit of a crevice in the battery strap! Oh, can’t we mend it, somehow? Can’t you pull the strap out longer or something?”

“No, angel child, there’s nothing doing without some lead. After this, always bring some lead in your pocket.”

“But I haven’t any pocket.”

“Ah, that explains the absence of the lead! If you had had a pocket, of course you would have brought some lead. You’re excused.”

“Well, next time I’ll bring lead with me, you may be sure of that.”

“I hope you will, fair lady, and may I be here to use it! Now, shall we start for our moonlight stroll?”

“Wait a minute; I have a idea!”

“Something tells me your idea is a good one!”

“I don’t know whether it is or not. I’m afraid it isn’t. And I’m afraid to tell you what it is, for fear you’ll laugh at me.”

“I laugh? I, a man in charge of a broken-down motor, and a fair young girl with French heels, and midnight drawing nearer and nearer! I laugh! Nay, nay, I’m in no laughing mood!”

“Well, if you’ll promise not to laugh, I’ll tell you, – or, rather, I’ll show you.”

From a little utility case, which was tucked away under the seat of the motor, Patty drew out a good-sized package of sweet chocolate. “I always carry chocolate with me,” she said, “because it tastes so good when it’s dusty.”

“When the chocolate’s dusty?”

“No, of course not; when the road’s dusty, and your throat’s dusty, – chocolate’s awful good then.”

As she talked, Patty had torn off the outer wrapper, and showed the chocolate neatly wrapped in tinfoil. She took this off carefully, and, tossing the chocolate aside, folded the tinfoil into a long strip, while Philip gazed at her with dawning admiration in his eyes.

“There’s your lead,” she said, simply, as she handed him the strip.

“Patty, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed; “a perfect genius! How did you ever think of that?”

“Will it do?”

“Do? Of course it will do! It’s just the very thing. I’ll wrap it around that separated battery strap, and we’ll be off in two minutes!”

In really less than two minutes, Van Reypen had wound the strip of tinfoil in its place, had jumped into the car beside Patty, who was already in, and they were flying along at top speed.

“How did you think of it?” he asked again, as they skimmed along. “It was terribly clever of you!”

“Why, I knew you wanted lead, and I knew tinfoil was lead. I was stupid not to think of it sooner.”

“You’re a marvel to think of it at all! It was wonderful!”

“Oh, not at all; that’s nothing to what I can do when I really try! Have some chocolate?”

Patty was in gay spirits now, for they were flying homeward through the moonlight, and she was spared the three-mile walk and her beloved car was safe in her own possession.

“Yes, I will have some chocolate, thank you. We may as well take all the goods the gods provide, while we can. I’m glad to get you home safely, but I can’t honestly say that I haven’t enjoyed this whole escapade. Can you?”

“No,” said Patty, looking at him with a demure smile, “not honestly, I can’t. But, all the same, I’m glad we could manage to ride home instead of walk.”

“Yes, so am I; and it’s astonishing how hungry I am! Can you spare a little more of that chocolate?”

“Yes, indeed;” and Patty broke off a generous bit; “but we’ll give you some supper at ‘The Pebbles.’ I fancy they’ll be rather glad to see us!”

“Yes,” said Philip, grinning; “and I rather fancy we’ll get a warm reception, – and I’m not sure but we deserve it!”

CHAPTER XIV

A BIRTHDAY BREAKFAST

It was not quite twelve o’clock when the Swift Camilla swung through the gateway of “The Pebbles,” and around the long drive to the house. As might have been expected, the waiting group on the veranda greeted the returned runaways with various but vociferous exclamations.

Several of them said, “Why, Patty Fairfield!” Several others said, “Where have you been?”

Roger called out, cheerily: “You must have had a ripping good time! Wish I’d been along!”

Mr. Fairfield said only, “Patty!” and Mr. Hepworth said nothing at all, but looked at Patty with an unmistakable expression of reproof.

Philip Van Reypen took the brunt of the situation upon himself. He jumped out of the car, assisted Patty out, and led her straight to her father.

“Mr. Fairfield,” he said, “here’s your daughter, safe and sound, I’m happy to say. But I want you to decorate her with the Victoria Cross, or something just as good, for to-night she has proved herself a genius, – a wonderful genius! But for her ingenuity we should still be sitting in her little motor car, high and dry on a moonlit beach, listening to the wild waves. To her all the honour and glory, and, if there is any blame attached to our little excursion, it is mine. I kidnapped your daughter, but I fully meant to return her in ten or fifteen minutes, without ransom. I am no villain! But, owing to an accident, we were delayed.”

“I should think you were!” broke in Mr. Fairfield. “It is nearly midnight, and I am – ”

“Papa,” interrupted Patty, “I know exactly what you are! You are surprised, astounded, amazed, astonished, dumfounded, taken aback, struck all of a heap, and completely flabbergasted! If you are anything else, you can let me know to-morrow. Meantime, we are two heroes, who returned with our shield, and on it, both! Incidentally we are starving, and, if we had some supper, we could relate our experiences in fine shape.”

Patty’s arms were round her father’s neck, and, with a wheedlesome expression, her eyes looked up into his, and somehow Mr. Fairfield’s indignation melted away.

“Patty’s quite right,” declared Nan, taking sides with the culprits. “Let’s all go to the dining-room, and then later we’ll hear about Patty’s heroism.”

“Mr. Van Reypen was just as much of a hero as I,” declared Patty, as, with her arm tucked through her father’s, she led the way to the dining-room, where a dainty little supper had been waiting for the return of the missing ones.

“It really wasn’t a matter of heroics,” said Philip Van Reypen; “it was only a simple, plain, everyday breakdown, caused by a separated battery strap. But the glorious part of it all was Miss Fairfield’s cleverness in finding a remedy for the trouble, when it seemed at first there was absolutely none.”

And then, while they ate salad and sandwiches, the interested audience listened to a full description of the breakdown, told in Philip Van Reypen’s most graphic style. In no way did he try to evade the blame for the escapade; he frankly admitted that he ought not to have taken Patty off without permission, but so winning was his frank manner, and so gleeful his enjoyment of the whole recital, that he won the sympathy of all present.

“It’s all right, Philip, my boy,” declared Mr. Fairfield, heartily. “I don’t blame you a bit for yielding to the temptation to slip out of the gate, and of course you could not foresee that peculiar accident. And I am proud of my girl for thinking of a way to fix the thing up! Tinfoil! Well, well! I doubt if I should have thought of that myself!”

Patty smiled and dimpled at the praises showered upon her from all sides, and she caught an approving smile from Mr. Hepworth, which showed his appreciation of what she had done.

“But I’m very sorry to have failed in my duty as hostess,” she said, demurely. “Did you manage to get along without me?”

“Oh, I was here,” said Nan, gaily, “and I kept the young people in order.”

“We did have a lovely time, Patty,” said Elise; “the walk along the beach was delightful; wasn’t it, Christine?”

“Yes,” replied Christine, slowly; “I never saw anything like it. I didn’t know there was so much beauty in the world.”

Mr. Hepworth smiled at the rapturous expression on the face of the Southern girl; and then he declared that it was quite time he and Mr. Van Reypen should depart for their own domicile.

“But you’re to come back here to-morrow morning for breakfast,” said Nan, hospitably. “We’ll breakfast at nine, and inaugurate Patty’s birthday, which I can assure you is going to be a pretty busy day for all concerned.”

“It’s lovely to have a birthday,” sighed Patty as, a few moments later, she went up the broad staircase with her arms around Elise and Christine, who were on either side of her.

“And this is such a lovely continuous performance,” said Elise. “We’ve had a lot of fun already, and the birthday isn’t really begun yet.”

“Well, it has really begun,” said Patty, “because it’s after midnight, and so it’s already to-morrow; but we won’t have any more celebration until breakfast is ready. So good-night, girls, and be sure to be up on time for my birthday breakfast.”

The girls obeyed this parting injunction, but Patty herself overslept, and it was half-past eight in the morning when she opened her eyes to find her two girl friends hovering over her.

“Wake up, sleepy-head!” said Elise, pulling Patty’s curls. “I say, Patty, how jolly it is for you to sleep out here! But don’t you almost freeze?”

“Oh, no, indeed! I have so much bed-covering that I sleep warm as toast; but I love to feel the sea air blow on my face.”

Patty’s sleeping veranda was almost like a room. Partially enclosed on three sides, the front was open to the sea. There were broad wicker blinds to be drawn at will, but, unless in case of a very strong sea breeze, they were seldom drawn.

The girls were in their kimonos, and Patty sent them flying as she sprang up herself.

“Go on, you two, and finish dressing; I’ll be ready before you are, now!”

Elise and Christine scampered away, and Patty began to dress with all speed. And by nine o’clock she went downstairs, fresh and dainty, in a white, embroidered muslin frock, with knots of light-blue ribbon.

Elise and Christine also wore white lingerie dresses; Elise’s being much befrilled and adorned, while Christine’s was far more simple. But each was suited to the type of girl who wore it, and when Nan appeared, also in a white gown, it was a picturesque quartette that stood on the veranda looking at the sunlit sea.

“Here they come!” cried Elise, as Mr. Hepworth and Mr. Van Reypen appeared round the corner. “And, Patty, see! They’re bringing presents to you! Just look at their arms full of tissue paper!”

Sure enough, both the men carried large parcels elaborately done up in tissue paper and bright ribbons. They came up laughing, and with merry birthday greetings to the queen of the occasion.

“Breakfast is ready,” said Nan. “We were just waiting for you. Bring those impressive-looking paper affairs with you, to the table; there’s quite a collection there already.”

And, indeed, there was! The whole party took their seats at the large round table, and at Patty’s place was a veritable mountain of white-wrapped parcels.

“I’m overcame!” she exclaimed. “It’s quite enough to have all you lovely people come to visit me, without having gifts besides!”

“Do open them, Patty!” cried Elise. “I’m crazy to see what they are!”

“Just for that I’ll open yours first, Elise,” said Patty, laughing. “Which is it?”

“This one,” replied Elise, touching a large parcel; “and it’s perfectly heavenly, Patty! I did it, every stitch, myself!”

“I did every stitch of mine, too,” murmured Roger, “if that makes a present more acceptable.”

Patty untied Elise’s gift, and it proved to be an embroidered muslin hat, very frilly as to brim, and ornamented with tiny, pink-satin rose-buds.

“How lovely!” cried Patty. “Thank you, a thousand times, Elise. The idea of your making those billions of stitches for poor, wuthless me!”

“Wouldn’t you make one for me?” asked Kenneth, “if it’s a mark of such devoted friendship?”

“I’ll make you two,” declared Elise, with a smiling glance at him. “Put it on, Patty; let’s see how it looks.”

So Patty put on the pretty frilled hat, and it formed a most appropriate frame around her golden halo of hair, and her flushed rose-leaf face. She had never looked prettier, and everybody present gave back an answering smile to the dancing eyes and dimpled mouth that challenged it.

Philip Van Reypen said, “By Jove!” under his breath, and Roger, who overheard, murmured, “Yes, and then some!”