ad
hidden his tools, and though his work on the broken belt was not
completed, he busied himself with the luncheon preparations, as if that
was his sole thought.

The racing-car stopped and the man who was driving it got out.

At sight of him Patty with difficulty restrained her laughter, for though
their own garb was queer, it was rational compared to the appearance of
this newcomer.

A racing suit is, with perhaps the exception of a diver's costume, the
most absurd-looking dress a man can get into. The stranger's suit was of
black rubber, tightly strapped at the wrists and ankles, but it was his
head-gear which gave the man his weird and uncanny effect. It was a
combination of mask, goggles, hood, earflaps, and neckshield which was so
arranged with hinges that the noseguard and mouthpiece worked
independently of each other.

At any rate, it seemed to Patty the funniest show she had ever seen, and
she couldn't help laughing. The man didn't seem to mind, however, and
after he had bowed silently for a moment or two with great enjoyment of
their mystification, he pulled off his astonishing head-gear and
disclosed his features.

"Dick Phelps!" exclaimed Mr. Farrington, "why, how are you, old man? I'm
right down glad to see you!"

Mr. Phelps was a friend of the Farrington family, and quite naturally
they invited him to lunch with them.

"Indeed I will," said the visitor, "for I started at daybreak, and I've
had nothing to eat since. I can't tarry long though, as I must make New
York City to-night."

Mr. Phelps was a good-looking young man of about thirty years, and so
pleased was he with Patty's efforts in the cooking line, that he ate all
the eggs she had boiled, and drank nearly all the tea, besides making
serious inroads on the viands they had brought with them.

"It doesn't matter if I do eat up all your food," said the young man,
pleasantly, "for you can stop anywhere and get more, but I mustn't stop
again until I reach the city, and I probably won't have a chance to eat
then, as I must push on to Long Island."

The Farringtons were quite willing to refresh the stranger within their
gates, and they all enjoyed the merry little picnic.

"Where are you bound?" asked Mr. Phelps as he prepared to continue his
way.

"To Pine Branches first," said Mrs. Farrington, "the country house of a
friend. It's near Springfield, and from there we shall make short trips,
and later on, continue our way in some other direc