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CHAPTER V
THE DAUGHTER OF MRS. DE LANCEY SMYTHE

Breakfast was hardly over next morning before a note on thin foreign paper was handed to Miss Sallie Stuart. She read it aloud: it asked for the pleasure of their company at luncheon. It was signed “Sophia von Stolberg.” The messenger would wait for the answer. Mr. Stuart was included in the invitation.

“There’s only one answer to that note,” laughed Mr. Stuart, scanning the four eager faces of the “Automobile Girls.” “Shall I translate your expressions into a single word? It is ‘yes,’ my hearties.”

“Did you think they would fail to accept?” teased Miss Sallie. “Look at the foolish young things! They have all fallen in love with the countess at first sight, and can hardly wait for one o’clock to arrive. But I will send our acceptance at once, so as not to keep the man waiting.” Miss Stuart hurried off to the writing room of the hotel.

So the girls were alone when they were joined on the piazza by Mrs. De Lancey Smythe and Marian.

“Good morning, my dears,” said Mrs. De Lancey Smythe, with an attempt at affability. “Isn’t it delightful after the storm?”

“Very,” answered Ruth, rather shortly.

“Have you seen dear Maud and her father this morning?” pursued Mrs. Smythe, ignoring Ruth’s lack of cordiality.

“No,” replied Ruth. “Have you?”

“I saw them a few minutes ago, and they were engaged in a family discussion,” replied the older woman. “Such discussions are most disagreeable to me. Marian and I never have them. For some stupid reason, Mr. Warren is opposed to his daughter’s receiving attentions from the Count de Sonde. I have assured him that I know the count well. He belongs to an old and illustrious family. But tell me, what is your opinion of the Countess Sophia von Stolberg? Do you think she is an impostor?”

“An impostor!” exclaimed Ruth indignantly. “I think she is simply perfect. I never met any one in my life who impressed me so much.”

“Beware, my dear, that your feelings do not run away with you,” warned Mrs. De Lancey Smythe with asperity. “I have heard rumors, since I saw you last night. There are suspicious circumstances connected with this countess. She may very possibly be an impostor.”

“Who told you such a dreadful falsehood?” demanded Ruth. She was almost choking with anger. But Barbara had joined her. Bab’s firm fingers on Ruth’s arm warned her to be careful.

“The man who told me is in a position to know the truth. He is a clever man of the world, a foreigner himself,” replied Mrs. Smythe triumphantly.

“I am afraid I cannot credit his story,” replied Ruth, with more composure. “I cannot forget that we accepted the countess’s hospitality yesterday and we are to have the pleasure of accepting more of it to-day. My father and Aunt Sallie, and we four girls, are to have luncheon with the Countess von Stolberg and Madame de Villiers.”

Ruth drew Barbara’s arm through hers. They moved away from Mrs. De Lancey Smythe.

But Mrs. De Lancey Smythe had said her say and left a sting, and she smiled maliciously as the two girls walked away.

“I can’t endure that woman, Barbara,” exclaimed Ruth. “I’ll lose my head completely if she attacks our beautiful countess again.”

“She is too disagreeable to notice,” answered Bab vehemently. “Here comes Maud Warren. Shall we ask her to take a walk with us along the Beach?”

“I suppose so,” assented Ruth, whose enthusiasm had somewhat cooled over night. “I don’t want her. But we ought to be polite.”

The two girls greeted Maud Warren cordially. There was a discontented line across that young woman’s brow, and an angry look in her pale blue eyes.

“I am looking for the count,” she declared defiantly.

The girls instinctively knew that Maud was disobeying her father. Mr. Warren had just finished lecturing Maud and had commanded that she cut the count’s acquaintance.

“I saw the count a few minutes ago. He was starting off with his friend for a walk,” explained Bab gently. “Won’t you take a stroll on the beach with us, Maud? It is such a perfect morning.”

“Oh, do come, Maud,” begged Ruth, with a charming, cordial smile. Ruth’s sweet nature was again asserting itself.

“Yes, do,” cried Mollie and Grace, who had just joined the little group of girls.

Maud’s face softened. “You are awfully nice,” she said. Maud was a little taken aback by so much friendliness. She had been spoiled all her life, and had never had real friends among young girls. People had thought her disagreeable and overbearing, and she had held herself aloof, displaying a degree of hauteur that admitted of no friendship.

“Let’s get our hats and go immediately. It will soon be time to go in bathing,” suggested Bab. Barbara never missed a swim if she could help it.

“All right, old water dog,” Ruth agreed. “Meet us on the piazza looking toward the ocean, Maud. We will be back in ten minutes.”

The girls were back on the piazza at the appointed time. Maud was there. But with her were Marian De Lancey Smythe, and the Count de Sonde.

“What a nuisance!” exclaimed Ruth under her breath. But there was nothing to be done; therefore the girls decided to accept this undesired addition to their number with the best possible grace.

The entire party started down the avenue of palms toward the ocean.

The “Automobile Girls” were thrilled with the beauty of the great stretch of blue water. Marian De Lancey Smythe, too, had a soul stirring within her. It had been choked by the false principles and ostentations that her mother had taught her. But Marian was not a stupid girl. Her wits had been sharpened by years of managing and deceit. She had the sense to see the difference between herself and the four sweet, unaffected “Automobile Girls,” and she knew the difference was in their favor.

Under her fashionable exterior a really simple heart beat in Marian’s bosom, and she was filled with a wild desire to shake off her mother’s despotic rule, and for once let her real self come to the surface. As she strolled moodily along beside Barbara she reflected bitterly that while others had been given all, she had received nothing.

She contrasted the hand to mouth existence that she and her mother led with the full, cheerful life of the “Automobile Girls,” and a wave of shame swept over her at the deceptions and subterfuges that were second nature to her mother, which she felt reasonably certain that no really honest person would practise. Her life was a sham and a mockery, and behind it was the ever present fear that her mother would some day overstep all bounds, and do something to bring the crushing weight of the law down upon them. There were so many things that Marian did not understand. Her mother never said more about her affairs than was absolutely necessary. She only knew that they were always poor, always struggling to appear to be that which they were not. She had been commanded to dissemble, to lie, to do without a murmur, whatever her mother asked of her, and her better self sometimes rose in a revolt against her mother, that was almost hatred.

As she walked gloomily along wrapped in her own bitter reflections, she sighed deeply. Bab who was walking with her glanced quickly at Marian, then with one of her swift impulses, she put out her hand and clasped that of the other girl.

“Are you unhappy, Marian?” she asked.

“No,” replied Marian. But her emotions got the better of her and she choked back her sobs with an angry gulp. Then feeling the pressure of Bab’s sympathetic hand she said brokenly, “I mean, yes. At least, I don’t know exactly what is the matter with me. I think I am homesick – homesick for the things I have never had, and never expect to have.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bab, still holding Marian’s hand, yet looking away, so she should not see Marian’s rebellious tears. “But why do you think you won’t have the things you want? If you keep on wishing for a thing the wish is sure to come true some day.”

Marian’s set face softened at these words. “Do you really think that?” she asked. “Do you suppose that things will ever be any different for me? Oh, if you only knew how I hate all this miserable pretense.”

“Why, Marian!” exclaimed Bab. “What is the matter? I had no idea you were so unhappy.”

“Of course you hadn’t,” replied Marian. “Because I never dare let any one know my real feelings. I never have hated my life as I do since I have known you girls. You are just girls. That’s the beauty of it, and you have folks who love you and want you to stay girls and not ape grown up people all the time. I’d like to wear my hair in one braid, and run and romp and have a good time generally. Look at me. I look as though I were twenty-two at least, and I’m only seventeen. I have to wear my hair on top of my head and pretend to be something remarkable when I want to be just a plain every day girl. It’s intolerable. I won’t stand it any longer. I don’t see why I was ever born.”

“Poor Marian,” soothed Bab. “Don’t feel so badly. It will all come right some day. Let me be your friend. I believe I understand just how you feel. Perhaps your mother may – ”

“Don’t speak of my mother!” ejaculated the girl passionately. “Sometimes I hate her. Do you know, Barbara, I often wonder if she is really my mother. Away back in my mind there is the memory of another face. I don’t know whether I have only dreamed it, or where it came from, but I like to think of that sweet face as belonging to my mother.”

Bab looked at Marian in a rather startled way. What a strange girl she was, to be sure. Suppose Mrs. De Lancey Smythe were not her mother. Suppose that Marian had been stolen when a baby. Bab’s active brain immediately began to spin a web of circumstances about Marian Smythe.

“Marian,” she began. But she never finished for just then a piercing cry rang out.

Nursemaids with children began running along the sands. Another nurse had run out into the water. She was wildly waving her arms and pointing to a small object well out on the waves. Barbara saw it for just an instant. Then it disappeared. She and Marian both recognized what it was. A child’s curly head had risen to the surface of the water, and then had sunk out of sight.

Quick as a flash Barbara kicked off her white canvas pumps and threw hat and linen coat on the ground.

Extending her hands before her, she ran out into the water. Marian ran blindly after her. The Count de Sonde was the only man near that part of the beach. He was behaving in a most remarkable manner. Entirely forgetful of the blood of scores of noble ancestors that ran in his veins, he had taken to his heels and his small figure was seen flying up the beach away from the water.

However, Bab was not thinking of aid. She made straight for the little head, which rose for the second time above the waves.

When Barbara reached the spot where she had last seen the child’s head she dived beneath the surface of the water.

Marian thought that Barbara, too, had lost her life. She began wringing her hands and calling for help. In her excitement she had waded to her neck in the water and was clinging to the life rope. She did not know how to swim, but she had a wild idea that she ought to follow in Barbara’s lead, and now she clung to the rope and anxiously watched Barbara’s movements. Bab in the meantime, had dived into deep water and was groping blindly for the little figure. At last she seized the child by the arm and with lungs bursting rose to the top of the water, when suddenly she was struck a fearful and unlooked for blow. She had not reckoned with the life line and with the little fellow in her arms had come in violent contact with it. She reeled and would have gone under but a hand grasped her firmly by the arm and pulled her from under the treacherous rope. She had just sense enough to hand the child over to Marian Smythe and seize the rope herself. Then she filled her exhausted lungs with the fresh air.

On the shore Grace and Mollie were running up and down the sands imploring some one to save Bab. Ruth wished to rush out into the water. But she knew she could not reach the two exhausted girls.

As for the Count de Sonde, he was nowhere to be seen, while Maud Warren stood on the shore helplessly wringing her hands.

In a short time the beach was crowded with people. Marian and Bab had brought the little boy in to his nurse. The hotel physician soon took the nurse and the baby both away, and the crowd followed them.

Bab flung herself down in the warm sand. Mollie, Ruth and Grace hung over her anxiously.

“I’ll just rest here a moment,” Bab said faintly. “I want to get my breath. But do see to Marian. She is a brave girl. She saved my life. I struck against the life rope, and would have gone under with the little boy had she not caught my arm and held me up.”

“You dear, dear girl,” said Mollie with a half sob. “How splendid of you!”

Then the three girls surrounded Marian and hugged her until they were almost as wet as she was.

“I didn’t do anything remarkable,” she averred, almost shyly. “I went into the water after Barbara before I realized what I was doing. I just had to catch hold of her arm, because I saw that she was going under. You girls are perfectly sweet to me and I am happier to-day than I’ve ever been before.”

“Marian,” called the cold tones of her mother. “Go up to the hotel at once and change your clothing. Your appearance is disgraceful.”

Mrs. De Lancey Smythe stalked majestically over to the little group, frowning her displeasure. “Whatever possessed you and Miss Thurston to rush madly into the water after a child you never saw before?” she said to Marian, whose happy face had darkened at her mother’s first word. “Really, Marian, dear, you are at times past understanding.”

“Mrs. Smythe,” said Barbara coldly. “We could never have been so heartless as to stand on the shore and wait for some one else to rescue that little child. I felt it my duty to make some effort and I am sure that Marian did.”

“Really, Miss Thurston,” retorted Mrs. Smythe, “I addressed my remark to Marian.”

“Yes,” said Bab, her eyes flashing, “but you included me in it, therefore I felt justified in answering it.”

For a moment there was a tense silence. Bab stood looking composedly into the angry eyes of Mrs. De Lancey Smythe. Then Ruth said, with superb indifference. “Oh, come on, girls, don’t waste your whole morning, here. Bab, you’ll catch cold. Hurry right up to the hotel with Marian. Good-bye, Marian, we’ll see you later.”

Utterly ignoring Mrs. Smythe, Ruth turned on her heel and accompanied by Grace and Mollie continued the stroll along the beach.

“My I’d hate to meet Mrs. De Lancey Smythe alone on a dark night,” remarked Mollie, with a giggle. “Didn’t she look ready to scratch Bab’s eyes out, though.”

“She found her match in Mistress Barbara,” observed Grace. “She can’t intimidate our Bab.”

Bab hurried along the beach toward the hotel full of sympathy for the luckless Marian, and vowing within herself to be a true friend to the girl who had been cheated of her girlhood.

CHAPTER VI
THE COUNTESS SOPHIA

To be at luncheon with a real countess? What bliss!

Not one of the “Automobile Girls” doubted, for an instant, the genuineness of the Countess Sophia von Stolberg. Mrs. De Lancey Smythe’s calumnies carried no weight with the “Automobile Girls.”

To-day the countess was more gentle, more beautiful than she had seemed at first. And there was less formality in her manner.

Mollie, who sat at her left at the luncheon table, quite lost the feeling of awe that had taken possession of her the afternoon before.

Opposite the countess, at the other end of the table, sat the formidable Madame de Villiers, the old lady with the hooked nose and the bird-like eyes. She, too, seemed to feel more amiable, for she watched her young guests with an amused smile.

“Do you know what I believe Madame de Villiers was thinking all the time we were at luncheon?” Ruth asked her friends, when they were discussing their visit the following day. “The amused look on her face seemed to say: ‘This is just another of the countess’s pranks, asking these strangers to luncheon. But if they amuse her – why not!’”

Madame de Villiers, however, found Miss Sallie Stuart much to her liking. Perhaps this was because Miss Sallie was not in the least afraid of her, nor inclined to shrink from her, as so many people did.

The story of the morning’s adventure had been told. The countess leaned admiringly over the great bunch of yellow daffodils in the centre of the table and smiled at Bab. Barbara’s brown curls were still damp from their recent wetting. “Were there no men on that part of the beach when the baby was drowning? Why did you have to risk your life in that way?” the countess asked.

“There were no men near,” Ruth replied. “You see, it was very early in the morning. Only the nurse girls and children were abroad.”

“There was one man present!” exclaimed Mollie, with a spark of anger in her usually gentle blue eyes. “But he was a coward and ran away.”

“The Count de Sonde! Oh, yes,” continued Ruth, “I had forgotten him.”

The countess look startled.

“The Count de Sonde!” she repeated in a puzzled fashion. “He refused to help? He ran away?” An expression of incredulity crossed her face.

“He most certainly did run,” Mollie declared firmly. “I almost fell on my knees to beg him to save Bab. But he did not even take time to refuse me. He simply ran away, so as to live to fight another day, I suppose.”

“The Count de Sonde!” the young countess returned. “Ah, yes, he is the young Frenchman who was here yesterday. Then he is not a friend of yours?”

“Certainly not, Countess Sophia,” explained Mr. Stuart. “The young man is only a chance acquaintance, whom my friend Mr. Warren rescued from a difficulty yesterday.”

“I, also, am but a chance acquaintance,” smiled the young countess.

“Only you were the rescuer, and he was the rescued!” exclaimed Mollie quickly, looking fondly at her pretty hostess, who pressed her hand under the table.

“We are not in the least interested in the count,” Ruth remarked bluntly. “We are civil to him because we are trying to help some one.”

The countess looked puzzled.

Mr. Stuart laughed. “My dear Countess,” he explained, “the ‘Automobile Girls’ are not exactly Knights of the Round Table, but they have a kind of league of their own. I think they have formed a sort of Helping Hand Society. They have a pretty good theory that there is no reason why boys should enjoy all the adventures and thrilling experiences. If there is anything to be done, why, do it! Isn’t that the motto, girls? I think the countess would be amazed if she knew what you have been through in the way of adventure. Now, they have undertaken to look after a misguided maiden. And I think they are rather piling on the horrors in her case.”

“Now, Father, you’ve no right to tease,” protested Ruth. “You are the very person who made us promise to stand by Maud Warren through thick and thin.”

“So I did,” agreed Mr. Stuart. “But I had no romantic notions that Maud was to be protected from the Count de Sonde. I only consented to have you persuade Maud from certain undesirable associates by showing her how much more desirable you are. Now, I plainly see the object of your protective association has changed.”

“Now, Father, you are teasing,” exclaimed his daughter.

“How can you accuse me of any such thing?” replied Mr. Stuart, his eyes twinkling.

“He always teases,” Ruth explained to the countess and Madame de Villiers. “It’s second nature to him. He can’t help it. But putting aside all jesting, I am going to speak very plainly about several things. I am sorry to be obliged to backbite, but really and truly we don’t like Mrs. De Lancey Smythe. She is the most disagreeable person we know, and we are going to try gradually to wean Maud Warren from her. Maud thinks that she is wonderful and a great society leader, but I think if one made careful inquiry into the matter, one would find her name among those missing from the social world.”

“Ruth, my dear,” expostulated Miss Stuart. “You are entirely too impetuous!”

“Do allow her to go on, Miss Stuart,” begged Madame de Villiers. “She is one after my own heart. It is refreshing to find some one who is not afraid to speak plainly.”

“Well,” continued Ruth, highly elated at receiving the approbation of the stern old woman. “We are going to checkmate Mrs. D. L. S. at her own game. She is trying to throw Maud in line with her own schemes. Enter the ‘Automobile Girls.’ Exit the enemy. The first battle was fought on the beach this morning, and the situation was strongly defended to the last word by General Barbara Thurston.”

“What do you mean, Ruth?” interrupted her father gravely.

Then Ruth launched forth with the account of Mrs. De Lancey Smythe’s rudeness to Bab and Bab’s reply. “Marian is all right,” concluded Ruth, “but her mother is an entirely different proposition.”

“So it would seem,” murmured the countess thoughtfully. “But suppose the count is really an eligible person, and has fallen in love, in earnest with Miss Warren, and suppose that Miss Warren truly loves him, what then? Would Mr. Warren still be opposed to the marriage?”

“I don’t know,” replied Ruth doubtfully. “But you see Maud is a girl, and Mr. Warren feels that she is too young to know her own mind. He is afraid that the count’s title has dazzled her, and he does not like foreigners. He thinks we may be able to disabuse Maud of some of her sentimental ideas. Last night we four girls organized a secret society for the suppression of fortune hunters, and we thought perhaps you might help us – ”

“Ruth, my dear child!” protested Miss Sallie greatly shocked.

But old Madame de Villiers’ eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Indeed, I shall be most happy to become a member of your secret society,” rejoined the countess. “How exciting! It must be a real secret society, if we are to be serious. Let me see? We should arrange signals and plan a campaign. If I am right, Miss Maud Warren needs to be treated very delicately and carefully, or she is likely to rebel. Is this not so?”

“That is just what we agreed last night,” Ruth confessed.

“But how are we going to prove that Count de Sonde is a fortune-hunter?” argued Mollie. “For all we know, he may be immensely rich as well as illustrious.”

“Oh, we shall have to prove that the count is not really in love with Mademoiselle Warren,” answered the countess, pinching Mollie’s cheek. She was entering into their little game with a curious zest.

“Or you might prove that he is not a count,” interposed Madame de Villiers, with an inscrutable expression on her grim old face.

“Do you believe that he is an impostor, Madame de Villiers?” inquired Miss Sallie.

For a brief instant the countess’s eyes met those of Madame de Villiers.

The old lady shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows in answer to Miss Sallie’s question: “The world is so full of impostors, and Europe so full of counts,” she said.

The countess blushed hotly. There was an awkward silence.

Miss Sallie was sorry she had spoken. But why should such an idle question cause annoyance? The young count was surely a stranger to her two hostesses. There was nothing to indicate that the young man was in earnest about Maud Warren. He had simply paid her casual attentions for the past few days.

“Shall you and I become members of this secret society, Madame de Villiers?” inquired Miss Stuart, to divert the conversation. “I suppose we had better be content with the posts of confidential agents. Because I assure you there is no limit to what this society may do.”

“And I should prefer to be scout, guardsman, or messenger,” agreed Mr. Stuart. “I, too, shrink from being an active member of such a vigorous organization.”

“Then let us leave these faithless people behind, girls,” proposed the young countess. “Let us run away to the old boathouse and plan our campaign. We are not sure that we may safely confide to you our secret signals, our hand clasps and our code,” she protested to the older people.

Madame de Villiers now led the way into the drawing room.

But the young countess ran lightly out of the house, followed by her four girl guests. “We’ll arrange our secrets while our elders take their coffee on the balcony,” she suggested.

When the countess and the “Automobile Girls” had disappeared, Madame de Villiers smiled a little apologetically at Miss Stuart and her brother. “The countess is only a girl herself,” she explained. “Of course, she is several years older than your girls. Yet, in many ways, she is still simply a child.”

“She is very beautiful and charming,” replied Miss Sallie cordially. “You see how she has fascinated our girls.”

“So she does everyone,” replied Madame de Villiers, shaking her head somewhat sadly.

In the meantime the five conspirators were absorbed in devising their signals. They were only joking, of course. Yet, somehow, the young countess entered so seriously into their make-believe that the girls almost forgot they were not in earnest. One thing they conscientiously agreed upon – Maud Warren was to be constantly invited to share their pleasures with, or without, her objectionable friends.

“Must the Count de Sonde be permitted always to come along with us and Maud?” Grace queried. She had been taking little part in the conversation, for she had been industriously writing down a list of signals for their new organization.

“We must have him, if Maud won’t come without him,” replied Ruth. “Maud must be won over to our side by flattering attentions. Suppose we start out being friends with her, by having another luncheon at our hotel. Will you come, Countess?”

The countess shook her head gently. “I am sorry,” she replied a little soberly. “I – ” she hesitated a moment. “I fear you will think me rude. But I have made it a rule never to appear at the hotels. I will do anything else. Suppose we give a picnic? Is not that what you call it in English?”

“A picnic would be delightful,” agreed Ruth politely. But she could not help wondering why the countess was not willing “to appear,” as she expressed it, at the hotels.

“The signals are ready!” cried Grace. “There are two handshakes. The one which denotes danger is like this: Press the forefinger of one hand into the palm of the other person’s hand when you shake hands.”

“That is very clever!” exclaimed the countess. She clasped Mollie’s little hand. “Now, Mademoiselle Mollie, when you feel my finger press your palm like this, you will know that I am greatly in need of your help.”

“A white ribbon bow worn on the left shoulder, means that a secret meeting must be called at once!” Grace declaimed.

“And a blue ribbon bow, worn instead of a white one, proclaims: ‘I have important information to communicate,’” added the Countess Sophia. “But I should have a special signal by which to summon you. Let me see. I must be able to signal you from a distance. If I fasten a red flag to one of these posts in the day time you must know that I want to see you very much.”

“But what about a night signal?” asked Grace, who was taking the signals very seriously.

The countess laughed. “If ever you should happen to see a bright light shining in the tower of my villa, come to me at once. I shall be in great danger. Now, is not that exciting?” she cried, clasping her hands and smiling at the little company.

At this moment there came a sound of oars dipping in the water. A boat glided from under the pavilion, which was built out over the water. The boat must have been hugging the shore until it reached the boathouse. Then it made for the open water. In the boat was one man. And immediately the countess and the four “Automobile Girls” recognized him. He was the Frenchman, Monsier Duval!

“I wonder if he has been eavesdropping?” asked Ruth indignantly.

“Oh well, he has heard nothing but make-believe,” the countess replied lightly, as she led her guests back to the villa.