A comedy of errors

The original lake party might have served as an excellent illustration of the history of many principalities and nations. Having suffered a division and then a subdivision and finally a breaking up into fractional groups, it became as a weakened and shattered government, powerless to help itself.

It soon became evident that Mary Price was too weary to take the long walk back to the lake.

She was left therefore by the roadside with Percy and Elinor, while Dr. Hume, Nancy and Billie went on.

“It will probably be no time at all before we pick them up,” said the doctor cheerfully, but they made the entire walk to the lake house and there was no “Comet” to be seen.

“It left here two hours ago,” the boatman informed them. “Maybe they went on to the second bridge. That’s half a mile beyond the first one. They’ll tell a person anything, these people here will.”

“I suppose that’s exactly what happened,” Billie exclaimed, much relieved. “They have been waiting at the second bridge and will be on their way back by this time. But I think they will have to come all the way. Nancy has a blister on her heel.”

“Now, don’t blame it all on me, Billie,” said Nancy. “You know you are dead tired yourself.”

Billie smiled guiltily.

“I am played out,” she said.

“I wouldn’t think of allowing either of you young ladies to start on another tramp,” put in Dr. Hume. “I am too good a doctor for that. You must stay right here and rest and I’ll start back. I may meet the whole party any time, now.”

Billie and Nancy, therefore, settled themselves to rest on two benches near the lake while the good doctor trudged off along the dusty road.

In the meantime, Mary, who had more than overtaxed her strength that day, gave Percy and Elinor a bad fright by toppling over in a faint. They brought her to with water which Percy carried from a brook in his hat, and then carried her into the wood a bit where she could lie on the pine needles and rest her head in Elinor’s lap. But Percy hurried back to the road to keep watch, and seeing a motor car broken down in the distance hastened to catch up with it. It was a strange car, however, and the chauffeur had not seen the “Comet.”

And all this while, Ben and Miss Campbell, having waited an incalculable time at the second bridge, had gone on for half a mile. Few people can stand the test of being kept waiting. Their patience may be inexhaustible but their judgments are apt to take a bad twist and bring them right about face in the wrong direction.

It is true that Ben had yielded to Miss Campbell in going beyond the supposed meeting place, and now to make matters worse, the “Comet” came to an inexplicable standstill. Poor Ben, with small knowledge of what to do, began a long and wearisome investigation of unfamiliar machinery.

There was something of the dumb driven animal in Ben when he entered unfamiliar territory, and his slow plodding methods had been known to irritate Miss Campbell profoundly.

And now, one more separation remained to complete the disbandment of this innocent party of pleasure. Ben, shamefaced and very humble, was obliged to confess to Miss Campbell that he could not locate the trouble with the “Comet.” Deeply he regretted his inefficiency, but there was nothing to do but give up.

“I’m thinking,” he said, “that maybe I had better walk back a little ways and see if the others aren’t coming up behind us.”

“Very well,” answered Miss Campbell with dignity. “You may go. I suppose nobody would wish to harm an old woman.”

Presently, therefore, she found herself alone in the wilderness. There was something almost human and comforting about the “Comet,” however, that faithful mechanism that had borne them on so many pilgrimages, and Miss Campbell addressed herself to him as to a human companion.

“I just believe you had more sense than that stupid Ben Austen,” she said. “You wouldn’t go on because you knew perfectly well that your mistress was behind you. You’re a nice, good old thing.”

She paused and peered out of the car. Darkness was falling and the road was filled with somber shadows cast by the far-reaching branches of the trees on either side. As far as she could see along the white strip of road there was no human soul behind her. Her eyes swept the road in front. It was criss-crossed with light and shadow and it was difficult to make out anything moving, but Miss Campbell thought she saw an object approaching. Yes, it was unquestionably an object. Something large and white a van. Great heavens, it was a Gypsy van!

“Ben!” she called, but Ben was quite a quarter of a mile away by now.

The only thing to do was to get out and hide behind a tree in the woods. She could not bring herself to face a band of Gypsies. Hurriedly climbing down from the car, Miss Campbell concealed herself in a thicket of trees near the road.

Presently the van drew up alongside the empty car.

“By Jove, here’s an abandoned motor. Where do you suppose the people are?” said a man walking at one side of the van and driving the horse.

Two women were comfortably seated in rocking chairs in the little front compartment of the vehicle.

“How strange!” said one of them. “It’s like finding a derelict at sea. Where are the Captain and the crew? Where are the passengers?”

“Where indeed?” thought the lady behind the tree.

“It’s like the mystery of the ‘Maria Theresa,’” pursued the man. “A perfectly good ship abandoned in mid-ocean without the slightest explanation and all on board lost forever.”

This gruesome comparison made Miss Campbell decidedly uncomfortable.

“Shall we leave her to drift, ladies?” he asked affably.

“I will protect the ‘Comet’ with my life,” she thought. “I don’t believe they are Gypsies anyhow. Their accent is too good, and a Gypsy would never address the women of his family as ‘ladies.’”

“I am afraid I am at present the sole survivor of the crew,” she said politely to the young man. “If you would be kind enough to advise me, sir, I should be greatly indebted.”

Immediately the man lifted his broad-brimmed hat and the women in the rocking chairs leaned forward in order the better to see this dainty, mysterious little lady in gray who had emerged apparently from a primeval forest.

“With the greatest pleasure, ma’am,” answered the young man, filled with curiosity, and they all listened with courteous attention while she related the history of the afternoon’s mishaps.

“And now that stupid Ben, who is really a very nice boy under ordinary circumstances, has gone off and left me and almost anything could have happened, wolves, Indians, half-breeds ” she added, thinking of the treacherous Lupos.

After she had finished, the young man stood for a moment thinking.

“My name is Richard Hook, ma’am, at your service,” he said. “The only thing I could suggest is for me to unhitch Dobbin here and ride him down the road to look for your party and leave you with my sister, Maggie, and her friend. This is as good a place as any other for us to put up for the night. You might as well start supper, girls. Perhaps this lady is hungry.”

“I am,” interjected Miss Campbell fervently.

So it happened that Richard Hook went ambling off into the twilight on old Dobbin while Maggie Hook and her friend, Amy Swinnerton, made Miss Campbell comfortable in the van and prepared to cook supper.

“And you are not Gypsies after all?” asked the little lady, watching one of the girls light a bracket lamp on the wall of the van.

“No, indeed,” laughed Maggie Hook. “Not by birth at least, but I think we have something of the Gypsy spirit because we love to spend our summers in this way. Have you never seen a van?”

Miss Campbell could not say that she had and looked about her with much interest.

“These are our beds, you see,” Amy explained. “The top one folds up and we use the lower one for a divan. Richard sleeps in a tent. This is the dressing room,” she continued with as much pride as a custodian showing a sightseer over an ancient castle.

A little space had been curtained off in the back and behind this hung a mirror over a small dressing table, and a row of hooks for clothes.

“And this is your kitchen?” asked Miss Campbell, indicating a row of plates and cups on a plate rack and a small kerosene stove, at one side opposite the beds.

“That and a chafing dish and a camp fire,” answered Maggie Hook. “But we mostly prefer the fire. I’ll get things started here to-night and when Richard comes he can make us a fire if he dares. I believe the laws around here are pretty strict about fires.”

“Well, my dears, it is assuredly the most complete and delightful little traveling home I ever saw,” exclaimed Miss Campbell, after she had looked over the entire van and then seated herself in a rocking chair to watch preparations for supper. It did not take long for her to make friends with these nice young girls who were indeed about the age of her own charges.

“How many are in your party, Miss Campbell?” asked Maggie, in the act of breaking eggs into a bowl.

“There are eight of us, but I hope you aren’t thinking ”

“Oh, but I am,” insisted Maggie. “I am sure they will be very tired and hungry, and, besides, we have plenty in the larder for everyone, a whole ham!” she added archly.

“Dear me, I wish Billie were here,” said Miss Campbell. “I believe she always keeps things stored away in the ‘Comet’ for an emergency.”

“I’ll beat up some Johnnie cakes,” announced Amy. “We can cook those on the wood fire later.”

In the meantime, the waiters who had waited in vain and the wanderers who had wandered fruitlessly, began to realize that the situation was serious. Billie grew desperately impatient. At last she succeeded in engaging a carry-all and two horses from a man at the moat house and soon she and Nancy, seated face to face, were hurrying along the road. Dr. Hume had met Percy. Ben had discovered Elinor and Mary standing fearfully on the edge of the forest. By the time that Richard Hook had got anywhere at all with his old nag, the lake-party, with the exception of Miss Campbell, was re-united in Billie’s carry-all and driving comfortably in the direction of the “Comet.”

They were very tired and hungry but a graven image would have melted to laughter over this comedy of errors, and Richard Hook, hearing the gay chorus of voices approaching, was quite sure it was another picnic party. But he was not a young man to take chances, and having taken his position across the middle of the road, he waved his arms and yelled, “Stop!”

“Do you know anything about a little lady in gray and an abandoned automobile?” he asked.

“Cousin Helen and the ‘Comet,’” cried Billie, consumed with anxiety. “Oh, Ben, how could you have left them?”

“But ” began Ben.

“I assure you the lady is in good hands,” interrupted Richard. “My sister is looking after her.”

There were more explanations and presently they started on their way again, and in a little while drew up beside the Gypsy van and the abandoned motor car. And the upshot of the whole adventure was that the two parties joined forces and provisions.

The boys built a fire against a great boulder on the river bank and there was a wonderful supper. All the very best of everything was brought out for the occasion. They ate Johnnie cakes from wooden platters and drank black coffee from glasses, Russian fashion. Later they sang songs and told stories around the camp fire. Never did people commingle so agreeably as the caravanners and the motorists. Somehow Sunrise Camp and Alberdina Schoenbachler faded into the dim recesses of their memories.

“Of course you can’t go home,” Richard Hook remarked to Billie. “We’ll camp out to-night. You’ll never be able to mend that car in all this blackness, and it would be a pretty hard road to follow at night anyhow. We’ve just come over it. Dobbin can pull the car over to one side of the road, and Miss Campbell and Miss Price can sleep in the van.”

“And we’ll show you what a bed really is,” Ben went on eagerly. “Not a motor car cushion affair either.”

To their surprise, Miss Campbell was agreeable to the plan.

“There’s nobody at home to worry but Alberdina,” she said, “and it won’t hurt her to lose a little flesh, anyhow.”

The boys worked hard over the beds. Springy couches they made of spruce branches, covered with blankets, and, at last as care-free as a lot of Gypsies, they all slept as soundly as they had ever slept in their own beds at home.