Margaret Penrose - The Motor Girls on the Coast - or, The Waif From the Sea

“We’ll help you roll the cars in,” suggested one.

“Yes, it will be better to roll them by hand than take chances on starting them up, and making sparks,” said Jack. “Come on, boys!”

“Come on, girls!” echoed Cora. “We’ll go to the house.”

While her brother, his chums and the men were putting the autos back in the garage the girls ran through the slackening rain to the rear porch. There Cora found the strange woman sitting, pathetically weary, in the chair Nettie had brought out. “Oh–some one is here!” gasped Belle, who had nearly stumbled over the figure in the darkness. Then one of the maids opened the kitchen door, and a flood of light came out on the porch.

“Wait a minute, girls,” said Cora, in a low voice. “I think I have a little surprise for you.” She motioned to the strange woman.

“Come inside,” Cora said, while the others looked on in amazement. Who could this strange, elderly woman be? Where had she come from? And Cora appeared to know her.

“One of Cora’s charity-cronies,” Ed whispered to Norton, who stood inquisitively near. “Come on. She knows how to take care of that sort.” The boys after putting back the autos had come on to the house.

Jack and Walter were evidently of Ed’s opinion, for they also passed into the house with not more than a glance at the woman. Bess lingered near Cora.

“We will go in here,” Cora said kindly, as she opened from the kitchen a door that led into a room used for special occasions, when many dishes were served. “Then I can have a chance to talk with you. Perhaps you are hungry?” she added.

The woman looked about her as if dazed. Cora saw that she had a face of rather uncommon type. Her deep-set gray eyes were faded to the very tint of her gray hair, and her cheeks, though sunken, outlined features that indicated refinement. Her clothes were very much worn, but comparatively clean and of good material. She wore no hat, nor other head covering.

“Yes, I am hungry, I think,” the woman said. “But I need not keep you from your friends. If you will just have a cup of tea sent in here to me.”

“Oh, they don’t mind,” Cora said, with a laugh. “My friends can be with me any time.” The other girls had gone to get rid of the grime of the fire, as had the boys.

“Very well,” said the woman. “You are so kind.”

Cora scarcely heard this for she was out in the kitchen giving some orders. She soon returned to the little room, and took a chair opposite her guest.

“How did you come to be in the barn?” she asked.

“I went in–to rest,” answered the woman wearily.

“Of course,” Cora said, as if that were an explanation. “But I won’t ask you to talk any more until you have had your tea. There,” as Nettie placed a tray of refreshment beside her, “let me give you your tea first, then you will feel more like talking.” The tea was poured when Jack entered. He looked at Cora questioningly.

“This woman was out in the storm,” Cora truthfully explained without making a clear statement, “and I insisted that she come in.”

“Why, of course,” assented the good-natured brother. “But say, Cora,” and he changed the subject tactfully. “Wasn’t it a good thing mother was not at home? She would have been scared to death.”

“Oh, I know we always have to get mother off first,” she replied. “When we are arranging a trip I count on–happenings.”

“This is your brother?” asked the woman, who seemed to have revived under the influence of that cup of tea.

“Yes,” Cora replied. “Have some of the ham. And some bread.”

A particularly sharp flash of lightning blazed through the room. The storm was not over yet. The three girls from the parlor threw the door of the pantry open, and stood there with very white faces. Even Belle, the rosy one, had gone pale again.

“Oh, do come in here,” wailed Belle. “I am so frightened!”

“With all the others near you?” Cora asked, smiling. Then, seeing the actual terror of her friends she did stand up to comply. “I suppose it was the fire,” apologized Eline. “We are especially nervous to-night.”

“Yes, do go,” begged the woman, “and when I have finished, I will show my gratitude by telling you all a very strange story. One forgets fear, sometimes, when a matter of deeper interest is brought up.”

“Very well,” assented Cora. “I will be back in a few minutes, and then we will all be primed for the wonderful story.”

“What is it?” whispered Jack in the passage-way, as the girls entered the library.

“Hush!” Cora cautioned. “I found her–in the barn.”

“The barn! Before the fire?” he gasped. “Did she – ?”

“After it was–going,” Cora managed to say. Then she put her finger to her lips.

The young folks, at least the girls, insisted upon huddling in the very darkest corner of the room.

“Don’t go near the phonograph,” cautioned Eline. “Musical sounds are very dangerous during a storm, I’ve heard.”

Then the absurdity of “musical sounds” from a silent phonograph occurred to her, and she laughed as quickly as did the others.

“Well it’s metal at any rate,” she amended, “and that is just as bad.” “Who’s your friend, Cora?” Ed asked, in an off-hand way.

“Oh, she is going to tell us a wonderful story,” put in Bess before Cora could reply. “Wait until she has finished her tea.”

“She looks like a deserted wife,” Belle ventured softly, in her usual strain of romance.

“What’s the indication?” asked Walter somewhat facetiously. “Now, do I look anything like a deserted lover?”

Cora got up and went out into the pantry again. She found the woman standing, waiting for her.

“I do not know if I was wise or foolish to have made that promise,” she said. “But as I have made it I will stand by it. I feel also that to talk will do me good. And, after all, what have I to fear more than I have already suffered?”

“We have no idea of insisting on your confidence,” Cora assured her. “But, of course, I would like to know why you went in our garage.”

“And I fully intend to tell you,” replied the woman. “Are you all young folks?”

“Just now, we are alone,” answered Cora. “We are going away to-morrow, and were finishing our arrangements when the barn caught fire.”

“I scarcely look fit to enter your–other room,” the woman demurred, with a glance at her worn clothing. “But I assure you I have been no place where there has been illness, or anything of that sort.”

“You are all right,” insisted Cora. “Come along. I am sure the girls are more frightened than ever now, for the storm is more furious.” The thunder and lightning seemed to be having “a second spasm,” as Jack put it.

A hush fell upon the little party as the strange woman entered. Even the careless one, Norton, looked serious. Somehow the presence of a gray-haired, lonely woman, in that unusually merry crowd, seemed almost a painful contrast.

“Sit here,” said Cora, pulling a chair out in a convenient position. “And won’t you take off your cape?”

“No, thank you,” replied the stranger. “I must talk while I feel like it, or I might disappoint you.” This was said with a smile, and the young folks noted that though the woman showed agitation, her eyes were now bright, and her voice firm.

“Very well,” Cora acceded. Then the woman told her strange story.

“Some time ago I was employed in an office. I had charge of the cataloging of confidential papers. I had been with the firm only a short time, when one day,” she paused abruptly, “one day I was very busy.