Tish, The Chronicle of Her Escapades and Excursions

M >> Mary Roberts Rinehart >> Tish, The Chronicle of Her Escapades and Excursions


"Huh!" said Tish, reaching for the gear lever. "And about as exciting as
a cold pork chop."

"And furthermore," I interjected, "if you go into this thing now that
your eyes are open, I'll send for Charlie Sands!"

"You and Charlie Sands," said Tish viciously, jamming at her gears,
"ought to go and live in an old ladies' home away from this cruel
world."

Aggie was sitting under a sunshade in the broiling sun at the tennis
court. She said she had not left Bettina and Jasper for a moment, and
that they had evidently quarreled, although she did not know when,
having listened to every word they said. For the last half-hour, she
said, they had not spoken at all.

"Young people in love are very foolish," she said, rising stiffly. "They
should be happy in the present. Who knows what the future may hold?"

I knew she was thinking of Mr. Wiggins and the icy roof, so I patted her
shoulder and sent her up to put cold cloths on her head for fear of
sunstroke. Then I sat down in the broiling sun and chaperoned Bettina
until luncheon.




III


Jasper took dinner with us that night. He came across the lawn, freshly
shaved and in clean white flannels, just as dinner was announced, and
said he had seen a chocolate cake cooling on the kitchen porch and that
it was a sort of unwritten social law that when the Baileys happened to
have a chocolate cake at dinner they had him also.

There seemed to be nothing to object to in this. Evidently he was right,
for we found his place laid at the table. The meal was quite cheerful,
although Jasper ate the way some people play the piano, by touch, with
his eyes on Bettina. And he gave no evidence at dessert of a fondness
for chocolate cake sufficient to justify a standing invitation.

After dinner we went out on the veranda, and under cover of showing me a
sunset Jasper took me round the corner of the house. Once there, he
entirely forgot the sunset.

"Miss Lizzie," he began at once, "what have I done to you to have you
treat me like this?"

"I?" I asked, amazed.

"All three of you. Did--did Bettina's mother warn you against me?"

"The girl has to be chaperoned."

"But not jailed, Miss Lizzie, not jailed! Do you know that I haven't had
a word with Bettina alone since you came?"

"Why should you want to say anything we cannot hear?"

"Miss Lizzie," he said desperately, "do you want to hear me propose to
her? For I've reached the point where if I don't propose to Bettina
soon, I'll--I'll propose to somebody. You'd better be warned in time. It
might be you or Miss Aggie."

I weakened at that. The Lord never saw fit to send me a man I could care
enough about to marry, or one who cared enough about me, but I couldn't
look at the boy's face and not be sorry for him.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Come for a walk with us," he begged. "Then sprain your ankle or get
tired, I don't care which. Tell us to go on and come back for you later.
Do you see? You can sit down by the road somewhere."

"I won't lie," I said firmly. "If I really get tired I'll say so. If I
don't--"

"You will." He was gleeful. "We'll walk until you do! You see it's like
this, Miss Lizzie. Bettina was all for me, in spite of our differing on
religion and politics and--"

"I know all about your differences," I put in hastily.

"Until a new chap came to town--a fellow named Ellis. Runs a sporty car
and has every girl in the town lashed to the mast. He's a novelty and
I'm not. So far I have kept him away from Bettina, but at any time they
may meet, and it will be one-two-three with me."

I am not defending my conduct; I am only explaining. Eliza Bailey
herself would have done what I did under the circumstances. I went for a
walk with Bettina and Jasper shortly after my talk with Jasper, leaving
Tish with the evening paper and Aggie inhaling a cubeb cigarette, her
hay fever having threatened a return. And what is more, I tired within
three blocks of the house, where I saw a grassy bank beside the road.

Bettina wished to stay with me, but I said, in obedience to Jasper's
eyes, that I liked to sit alone and listen to the crickets, and for them
to go on. The last I saw of them Jasper had drawn Bettina's arm through
his and was walking beside her with his head bent, talking. I sat for
perhaps fifteen minutes and was growing uneasy about dew and my
rheumatism when I heard footsteps and, looking up, I saw Aggie coming
toward me. She was not surprised to see me and addressed me coldly.

"I thought as much!" she said. "I expected better of you, Lizzie. That
boy asked me and I refused. I dare say he asked Tish also. For you, who
pride yourself on your strength of mind--"

"I was tired," I said. "I was to sprain my ankle," she observed
sarcastically. "I just thought as I was sitting there alone--"

"Where's Tish?"

"A young man named Ellis came and took her out for a ride," said Aggie.
"He couldn't take us both, as the car holds only two."

I got up and stared at Aggie in the twilight. "You come straight home
with me, Aggie Pilkington," I said sternly.

"But what about Bettina and Jasper?"

"Let 'em alone," I said; "they're safe enough. What we need to keep an
eye on is Letitia Carberry and her Cousin Angeline's legacy."

But I was too late. Tish and Mr. Ellis whirled up to the door at
half-past eight and Tish did not even notice that Bettina was absent.
She took off her veil and said something about Mr. Ellis's having heard
a grinding in the differential of her car that afternoon and that he
suspected a chip of steel in the gears. They went out together to the
garage, leaving Aggie and me staring at each other. Mr. Ellis was
carrying a box of tools.

Jasper and Bettina returned shortly after, and even in the dusk I knew
things had gone badly for him. He sat on the steps, looking out across
the dark lawn, and spoke in monosyllables. Bettina, however, was very
gay.

It was evident that Bettina had decided not to take her Presbyterianism
into the Episcopal fold. And although I am a Presbyterian myself I felt
sorry.

Tish and Mr. Ellis came round to the porch about ten o'clock and he was
presented to Bettina. From that moment there was no question in my mind
as to how affairs were going, or in Jasper's either. He refused to move
and sat doggedly on the steps, but he took little part in the
conversation.

Mr. Ellis was a good talker, especially about himself.

"You'll be glad to know," he said to me, "that I've got this race matter
fixed up finally. In two weeks from now we'll have a little excitement
here."

I looked toward Tish, but she said nothing.

"Excitement is where I live," said Mr. Ellis. "If I don't find any
waiting I make it."

"If you are looking for excitement, we'll have to find you some," Jasper
said pointedly.

Mr. Ellis only laughed. "Don't put yourself out, dear boy," he said.
"I have enough for present necessities. If you think an automobile race
is an easy thing to manage, try it. Every man who drives a racing-car
has a _coloratura_ soprano beaten to death for temperament. Then every
racing-car has quirky spells; there's the local committee to propitiate;
the track to look after; and if that isn't enough, there's the promotion
itself, the advertising. That's my stunt--the advertising."

"It's a wonderful business, isn't it?" asked Bettina. "To take a mile
or so of dirt track and turn it into a sort of stage, with drama every
minute and sometimes tragedy!"

"Wait a moment," said Mr. Ellis; "I want to put that down. I'll use it
somewhere in the advertising." He wrote by the light of a match, while
we all sat rather stunned by both his personality and his alertness.
"Everything's grist that comes to my mill. I suppose you all remember
when I completed the speedway at Indianapolis and had the Governor of
Indiana lay a gold brick at the entrance? Great stunt that! But the best
part of that story never reached the public."

Bettina was leaning forward, all ears and thrills. "What was that?" she
asked.

"I had the gold brick stolen that night--did it myself and carried the
brick away in my pocket--only gold-plated, you know. Cost eight or nine
dollars, all told, and brought a million dollars in advertising. But the
papers were sore about some passes and wouldn't use the story. Too bad
we can't use the brick here. Still have it kicking about somewhere."

It was then, I think, that Jasper yawned loudly, apologized, said
good-night and lounged away across the lawn. Bettina hardly knew he was
going. She was bending forward, her chin in her palms, listening to Mr.
Ellis tell about a driver in a motor race breaking his wrist cranking a
car, and how he--Ellis--had jumped into the car and driven it to
victory. Even Aggie was enthralled. It seemed as if, in the last hour,
the great world of stress and keen wits and endeavor and mad speed had
sat down on our door-step.

As Tish said when we were going up to bed, why shouldn't Mr. Ellis brag?
He had something to brag about.




IV


Although I felt quite sure that Tish had put up the prize money for Mr.
Ellis, I could not be certain. And Tish's attitude at that time did not
invite inquiry. She took long rides daily with the Ellis man in his gray
car, and I have reason to believe that their objective point was always
the same--the race-track.

Mr. Ellis was the busiest man in Morris Valley. In the daytime he was
superintending putting the track in condition, writing what he called
"promotion stuff," securing entries and forming the center of excited
groups at the drug store and one or other of the two public garages.
In the evenings he was generally to be found at Bettina's feet.

Jasper did not come over any more. He sauntered past, evening after
evening, very much white-flanneled and carrying a tennis racket. And
once or twice he took out his old racing-car, and later shot by the
house with a flutter of veils and a motor coat beside him.

Aggie was exceedingly sorry for him, and even went the length of having
the cook bake a chocolate cake and put it on the window sill to cool. It
had, however, no perceptible effect, except to draw from Mr. Ellis, who
had been round at the garage looking at Jasper's old racer, a remark
that he was exceedingly fond of cake, and if he were urged--

That was, I believe, a week before the race. The big city papers had
taken it up, according to Mr. Ellis, and entries were pouring in.

"That's the trouble on a small track," he said--"we can't crowd 'em.
A dozen cars will be about the limit. Even with using the cattle pens
for repair pits we can't look after more than a dozen. Did I tell you
Heckert had entered his Bonor?"

"No!" we exclaimed. As far as Aggie and I were concerned, the Bonor
might have been a new sort of dog.

"Yes, and Johnson his Sampler. It's going to be some race--eh, what!"

Jasper sauntered over that evening, possibly a late result of the cake,
after all. He greeted us affably, as if his defection of the past week
had been merely incidental, and sat down on the steps.

"I've been thinking, Ellis," he said, "that I'd like to enter my car."

"What!" said Ellis. "Not that--"

"My racer. I'm not much for speed, but there's a sort of feeling in the
town that the locality ought to be represented. As I'm the only owner of
a speed car--"

"Speed car!" said Ellis, and chuckled. "My dear boy, we've got Heckert
with his ninety-horse-power Bonor!"

"Never heard of him." Jasper lighted a cigarette. "Anyhow, what's that
to me? I don't like to race. I've got less speed mania than any owner of
a race car you ever met. But the honor of the town seems to demand a
sacrifice, and I'm it."

"You can try out for it anyhow," said Ellis. "I don't think you'll make
it; but, if you qualify, all right. But don't let any other town people,
from a sense of mistaken local pride, enter a street roller or a
traction engine."

Jasper colored, but kept his temper.

Aggie, however, spoke up indignantly. "Mr. McCutcheon's car was a very
fine racer when it was built."

"_De mortuis nil nisi bonum_," remarked Mr. Ellis, and getting up said
good-night.

Jasper sat on the steps and watched him disappear. Then he turned to
Tish.

"Miss Letitia," he said, "do you think you are wise to drive that racer
of his the way you have been doing?"

Aggie gave a little gasp and promptly sneezed, as she does when she is
excited.

"I?" said Tish.

"You!" he smiled. "Not that I don't admire your courage. I do. But the
other day, now, when you lost a tire and went into the ditch--"

"Tish!" from Aggie.

"--you were fortunate. But when a racer turns over the results are not
pleasant."

"As a matter of fact," said Tish coldly, "it was a wheat-field, not a
ditch."

Jasper got up and threw away his cigarette. "Well, our departing friend
is not the only one who can quote Latin," he said. "_Verbum sap._, Miss
Tish. Good-night, everybody. Good-night, Bettina."

Bettina's good-night was very cool. As I went up to bed that night, I
thought Jasper's chances poor indeed. As for Tish, I endeavored to speak
a few word of remonstrance to her, but she opened her Bible and began to
read the lesson for the day and I was obliged to beat a retreat.


It was that night that Aggie and I, having decided the situation was
beyond us, wrote a letter to Charlie Sands asking him to come up. Just
as I was sealing it Bettina knocked and came in. She closed the door
behind her and stood looking at us both.

"Where is Miss Tish?" she asked.

"Reading her Bible," I said tartly. "When Tish is up to some mischief,
she generally reads an extra chapter or two as atonement."

"Is she--is she always like this?"

"The trouble is," explained Aggie gently, "Miss Letitia is an
enthusiast. Whatever she does, she does with all her heart."

"I feel so responsible," said Bettina. "I try to look after her, but
what can I do?"

"There is only one thing to do," I assured her--"let her alone. If she
wants to fly, let her fly; if she wants to race, let her race--and trust
in Providence."

"I'm afraid Providence has its hands full!" said Bettina, and went to
bed.

For the remainder of that week nothing was talked of in Morris Valley
but the approaching race. Some of Eliza Bailey's friends gave fancy-work
parties for us, which Aggie and I attended. Tish refused, being now
openly at the race-track most of the day. Morris Valley was much
excited. Should it wear motor clothes, or should it follow the example
of the English Derby and the French races and wear its afternoon
reception dress with white kid gloves? Or--it being warm--wouldn't
lingerie clothes and sunshades be most suitable?

Some of the gossip I retailed to Jasper, oil-streaked and greasy, in the
Baileys' garage where he was working over his car.

"Tell 'em to wear mourning," he said pessimistically. "There's always a
fatality or two. If there wasn't a fair chance of it nothing would make
'em sit for hours watching dusty streaks going by."

The race was scheduled for Wednesday. On Sunday night the cars began to
come in. On Monday Tish took us all, including Bettina, to the track.
There were half a dozen tents in the oval, one of them marked with a
huge red cross.

"Hospital tent," said Tish calmly. We even, on permission from Mr.
Ellis, went round the track. At one spot Tish stopped the car and got
out.

"Nail," she said briefly. "It's been a horse-racing track for years, and
we've gathered a bushel of horse-shoe nails."

Aggie and I said nothing, but we looked at each other. Tish had said
"we." Evidently Cousin Angeline's legacy was not going into a mortgage.

The fair-grounds were almost ready. Peanut and lunch stands had sprung
up everywhere. The oval, save by the tents and the repair pits, was
marked off into parking-spaces numbered on tall banners. Groups of dirty
men in overalls, carrying machine wrenches, small boys with buckets of
water, onlookers round the tents and track-rollers made the place look
busy and interesting. Some of the excitement, I confess, got into my
blood. Tish, on the contrary, was calm and businesslike. We were sorry
we had sent for Charlie Sands. She no longer went out in Mr. Ellis's
car, and that evening she went back to the kitchen and made a boiled
salad dressing.

We were all deceived.

Charlie Sands came the next morning. He was on the veranda reading a
paper when we got down to breakfast. Tish's face was a study.

"Who sent for you?" she demanded.

"Sent for me! Why, who would send for me? I'm here to write up the race.
I thought, if you haven't been out to the track, we'd go out this
morning."

"We've been out," said Tish shortly, and we went in to breakfast. Once
or twice during the meal I caught her eye on me and on Aggie and she was
short with us both. While she was upstairs I had a word with Charlie
Sands.

"Well," he said, "what is it this time? Is she racing?"

"Worse than that," I replied. "I think she's backing the thing!"

"No!"

"With her cousin Angeline's legacy." With that I told him about our
meeting Mr. Ellis and the whole story. He listened without a word.

"So that's the situation," I finished. "He has her hypnotized, Charlie.
What's more, I shouldn't be surprised to see her enter the race under an
assumed name."

Charlie Sands looked at the racing list in the Morris Valley Sun.

"Good cars all of them," he said. "She's not here among the drivers,
unless she's--Who are these drivers anyhow? I never heard of any of
them."

"It's a small race," I suggested. "I dare say the big men--"

"Perhaps." He put away his paper and got up. "I'll just wander round the
town for an hour or two, Aunt Lizzie," he said. "I believe there's a
nigger in this woodpile and I'm a right nifty little nigger-chaser."

When he came back about noon, however, he looked puzzled. I drew him
aside.

"It seems on the level," he said. "It's so darned open it makes me
suspicious. But she's back of it all right. I got her bank on the
long-distance 'phone."

We spent that afternoon at the track, with the different cars doing what
I think they called "trying out heats." It appeared that a car, to
qualify, must do a certain distance in a certain time. It grew
monotonous after a while. All but one entry qualified and Jasper just
made it. The best showing was made by the Bonor car, according to
Charlie Sands.

Jasper came to our machine when it was over, smiling without any
particular good cheer.

"I've made it and that's all," he said. "I've got about as much chance
as a watermelon at a colored picnic. I'm being slaughtered to make a
Roman holiday."

"If you feel that way why do you do it?" demanded Bettina coldly. "If
you go in expecting to slaughtered--"

He was leaning on the side of the car and looked up at her with eyes
that made my heart ache, they were so wretched.

"What does it matter?" he said. "I'll probably trail in at the last,
sound in wind and limb. If I don't, what does it matter?"

He turned and left us at that, and I looked at Bettina. She had her lips
shut tight and was blinking hard. I wished that Jasper had looked back.




V


Charlie Sands announced at dinner that he intended to spend the night at
the track.

Tish put down her fork and looked at him. "Why?" she demanded.

"I'm going to help the boy next door watch his car," he said calmly.
"Nothing against your friend Mr. Ellis, Aunt Tish, but some enemy of
true sport might take a notion in the night to slip a dope pill into
the mouth of friend Jasper's car and have her go to sleep on the track
to-morrow."

We spent a quiet evening. Mr. Ellis was busy, of course, and so was
Jasper. The boy came to the house to get Charlie Sands and, I suppose,
for a word with Bettina, for when he saw us all on the porch he looked,
as you may say, thwarted.

When Charlie Sands had gone up for his pajamas and dressing-gown, Jasper
stood looking up at us.

"Oh, Association of Chaperons!" he said, "is it permitted that my lady
walk to the gate with me--alone?"

"I am not your lady," flashed Bettina.

"You've nothing to say about that," he said recklessly. "I've selected
you; you can't help it. I haven't claimed that you have selected me."

"Anyhow, I don't wish to go to the gate," said Bettina.

He went rather white at that, and Charlie Sands coming down at that
moment with a pair of red-and-white pajamas under his arm and a
toothbrush sticking out of his breast pocket, romance, as Jasper said
later in referring to it, "was buried in Sands."

Jasper went up to Bettina and held out his hand. "You'll wish me luck,
won't you?"

"Of course." She took his hand. "But I think you're a bit of a coward,
Jasper!"

He eyed her. "Coward!" he said. "I'm the bravest man you know. I'm doing
a thing I'm scared to death to do!"

* * * * *

The race was to begin at two o'clock in the afternoon. There were small
races to be run first, but the real event was due at three.

From early in the morning a procession of cars from out of town poured
in past Eliza Bailey's front porch, and by noon her cretonne cushions
were thick with dust. And not only automobiles came, but hay-wagons,
side-bar buggies, delivery carts--anything and everything that could
transport the crowd.

At noon Mr. Ellis telephoned Tish that the grand-stand was sold out and
that almost all the parking-places that had been reserved were taken.
Charlie Sands came home to luncheon with a curious smile on his face.

"How are you betting, Aunt Tish?" he asked.

"Betting!"

"Yes. Has Ellis let you in on the betting?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Tish said sourly. "Mr. Ellis
controls the betting so that it may be done in an orderly manner. I am
sure I have nothing to do with it."

"I'd like to bet a little, Charlie," Aggie put in with an eye on Tish.
"I'd put all I win on the collection plate on Sunday."

"Very well." Charlie Sands took out his notebook. "On what car and how
much?"

"Ten dollars on the Fein. It made the best time at the trial heats."

"I wouldn't if I were you," said Charlie Sands. "Suppose we put it on
our young friend next door."

Bettina rather sniffed. "On Jasper!" she exclaimed.

"On Jasper," said Charlie Sands gravely.

Tish, who had hardly heard us, looked up from her plate.

"Bettina is betting," she snapped. "Putting it on the collection plate
doesn't help any." But with that she caught Charlie Sands' eye and he
winked at her. Tish colored. "Gambling is one thing, clean sport is
another," she said hotly.

I believe, however, that whatever Charlie Sands may have suspected, he
really knew nothing until the race had started. By that time it was too
late to prevent it, and the only way he could think of to avoid getting
Tish involved in a scandal was to let it go on.

We went to the track in Tish's car and parked in the oval. Not near the
grandstand, however. Tish had picked out for herself a curve at one end
of the track which Mr. Ellis had said was the worst bit on the course.
"He says," said Tish, as we put the top down and got out the vacuum
bottle--oh, yes, Mr. Ellis had sent Tish one as a present--"that if
there are any smashups they'll occur here."

Aggie is not a bloodthirsty woman ordinarily, but her face quite lit up.

"Not really!" she said.

"They'll probably turn turtle," said Tish. "There is never a race
without a fatality or two. No racer can get any life insurance. Mr.
Ellis says four men were killed at the last race he promoted."

"Then I think Mr. Ellis is a murderer," Bettina cried. We all looked at
her. She was limp and white and was leaning back among the cushions with
her eyes shut. "Why didn't you tell Jasper about this curve?" she
demanded of Tish.

But at that moment a pistol shot rang out and the races were on.

The Fein won two of the three small races. Jasper was entered only for
the big race. In the interval before the race was on, Jasper went round
the track slowly, looking for Bettina. When he saw us he waved, but did
not stop. He was number thirteen.

I shall not describe the race. After the first round or two, what with
dust in my eyes and my neck aching from turning my head so rapidly, I
just sat back and let them spin in front of me.

It was after a dozen laps or so, with number thirteen doing as well as
any of them, that Tish was arrested.

Charlie Sands came up beside the car with a gentleman named Atkins, who
turned out to be a county detective. Charlie Sands was looking stern and
severe, but the detective was rather apologetic.

"This is Miss Carberry," said Charlie Sands. "Aunt Tish, this gentleman
wishes to speak to you."

"Come around after the race," Tish observed calmly.

"Miss Carberry," said the detective gently, "I believe you are back of
this race, aren't you?"

"What if I am?" demanded Tish.

Charlie Sands put a hand on the detective's arm. "It's like this, Aunt
Tish," he said; "you are accused of practicing a short-change game,
that's all. This race is sewed up. You employ those racing-cars with
drivers at an average of fifty dollars a week. They are hardly worth it,
Aunt Tish. I could have got you a better string for twenty-five."

Tish opened her mouth and shut it again without speaking.