Crimson Mountain (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

in the first place, let’s see whether the generator has come yet. If it hasn’t, we might hitch your car to mine and run it down to the city. But of course we’d have to consider that I’m pretty much of a stranger to you, and you might not feel you cared to take a long ride like that with me just coming nightfall!" He gave her a little grin.

      "Nonsense!" said Laurel. "I certainly know enough about you to feel perfectly safe with you no matter how dark it is. But I am not going to allow you to take a long journey like that for me. Let’s go and see about that train. Don’t I hear it now?"

      "Yes," said Pilgrim. "We’ll drive over to the station and see for ourselves. You can’t tell whether Mark may forget to go over. No, there he is heading toward the station on a dead run. Yes, there! They’ve flung him a package. That ought to be it. We’ll drive over and see."

      Mark was undoing the package as they came into the garage, and he turned and grinned at them.

      "They’ve sent the generator, all rightie!" he said. "And Ted and I are working overtime to-night. We’ll have her done as quick as she can be done. Maybe to-night if we don’t have too many interruptions."

      "Great work, Mark!" said Pilgrim. "You can count on me to bring you a pot of coffee and cinnamon buns if it keeps you late."

      "Great idea, Phil Pilgrim. I see you ain’t lost any of your big heart by gettin’ eddicated. I’ll vote for you every time."

      But Laurel had been doing some thinking while the two were talking, and now she stepped up to the mechanic.

      "Did I understand you to say there was a possibility that my car might be finished to-night?"

      The man eyed her sharply.

      "Yes, ma’am, I said that. I think if we can get this generator in before dark, we might have her ready to travel by seven o’clock. Mind you, I ain’t promising, not till I see what shape she’s in when I get the generator in, but I think it might happen, if you don’t mind paying my helper for overtime."

      "Of course not," said Laurel. "It’s important for me to get the car as soon as possible."

      "Okay," said the mechanic, returning to his work. "Stick around, lady, I’ll do my best. Angels can’t do no more."

      She turned a quick glance toward Pilgrim but saw he had just vanished inside the room where the telephone was. She wondered whether he had heard what Mark had said. But when he was through with the telephone, she would try a couple of old friends and see if either of them would take her in, provided her car was not done in time to use that night.

      Phil Pilgrim came out of the office smiling.

      "Say," he said with a happy grin, "want to do a little more scouting around for a stopping place? I had a hunch that I’d better find out for sure whether my man is coming on the midnight or later, and I find he came in on the five ten. Started from Chicago sooner than he expected, and he’s home now. I can see him if I drive to his house at once. I thought perhaps you’d like to go alone and stop off somewhere on the way back to find a place for overnight.

      And anyway, it would pass the time till you know for sure what to expect about your car."

      "Why, that will be fine," she said, smiling. "But you didn’t hear what the mechanic said, did you? He told me if everything went all right, he might get the car ready to move by seven in which case I’m going back to the city to-night. I simply must if I can, for I have so much to do before I get back here for Monday. But of course I ought to find a place before dark where I can stay if the car isn’t ready to-night."

      The young man looked at her, startled for a minute.

      "Well, yes, I suppose he could get it done if he is willing to work overtime," he said. "Well, come on. I’m sure we can find you a place anyway, and it may help you out when you get back."

      So they got into his old car again and went speeding down the road, through Carrollton, and out to a country place on the highway.

      "Why, this is where Mr. Banfield used to live," said Laurel, as they turned into the driveway and drove up before the steps of a big old-fashioned brick house.

      "Yes, that’s the name, Banfield. Do you know him?"

      "No," said Laurel, "but I remember he had something to do with a foundry down the road. I remember hearing his name. He was a manufacturer of some kind of machines, wasn’t he?"

      "That’s right," said Pilgrim. "Now, do you want to go in, or would you rather sit here and wait? I won’t be long."

      "Oh, I’d much rather sit here. Don’t hurry. I’m very comfortable."

      She smiled at him, and he got out and went up the steps with a spring and pulled the old-fashioned doorbell.

      The door was presently opened by a girl who nodded as if Pilgrim was expected, and he went in.

      Laurel sat there thinking the afternoon over with its strange happenings, amused at the situation, and still more amused at her own contentment with things. Why was it that she felt so much as if she had fallen in with one who seemed a part of her old life when Father and Mother were at hand and home was a beloved and beautiful place where there was protection and comfort and plenty of luxury? And why was it that she felt so much more at home in this man’s company than she did when she was with any of the young men in the city who had paid her attention?

      Ah, well did she know that if her cousins with whom she was staying temporarily should find out what she had been doing to-day, and how she had sent her regrets to Adrian Faber, and instead was staying in the company of a young man whose only contact with her in the past had been as a boy in a filling station where her father’s car used to be serviced, they would lift up their hands in horror and reproach her most mercilessly.

      "Laurel Sheridan! What have you done? You crazy girl!" she could imagine her friends and relative saying. "To go off on a wild goose chase after a job to teach school in a little dinky town and ruin your chances to get the absolutely best catch of the city! Don’t you know that Adrian Faber is simply rolling in wealth and able to give you anything you want? And don’t you know that he is just crazy about you?" Laurel could almost hear the tones of her cousin’s voice as she would say these things if she ever found out about the matter.

      But they never should know. Laurel had no intention of telling them, ever! If she got home to-night sometime, she would simply explain that she had car trouble, and by the time she got back home it was too late to go to that party. Besides, she was tired and didn’t feel equal to staying up practically all night as it would likely prove to be. She would pass it off that way. And when and if she took that job in Carrollton, she would just pass out of their picture as quietly and painlessly as possible, and let them say what they would after she was gone. They need never know about the young man who had saved her life and been so kind and interesting afterward. That was her own secret, and too pleasant and sort of sacred to be slung into public gaze and rollicked around among kindly gossiping tongues till all the beauty and friendship were taken out of it.

      Well, and then to-night, or at latest to-morrow morning, this nice young soldier boy out of her childhood’s past, would say good-bye and pass on to his camp or his war or whatever, and would not be around anymore for anybody to jeer about. Then they would exert all the influence they had to make her snare and marry one of those wholly desirable young men whom they had so obviously flung at her from time to time.

      Into these pleasant reflections came footsteps Phil Pilgrim coming out the door and down the steps of the brick house, followed by older footsteps. A tall elderly man stood on the porch.

      "Then you’ll let me know, Pilgrim, not later than ten to-morrow morning?"

      "Yes sir. I’ll let you know if I can get my leave extended a few hours at least."

      "Well, find out to-night if you can possibly get into contact with your captain. I should like to get these papers signed to-morrow for sure. I want to get the manager here to meet you to-morrow evening at the latest, sooner if possible. This thing must be put through at once."