“Now we know why the pilot of the airplane left. He probably visits the old ruin only at high tide, when he is sure that there is water enough in the creek,” Dick announced.
Dories seemed greatly relieved that the expedition had returned to the open, and, as it was sheltered in the cove, the boys soon rowed across to the point of rocks. “If Gib could leave the punt here where the water is so sheltered and quiet, your mother, Dick, would not object even if you went out when the tide is high, would she?” Nann inquired.
“No, indeed,” the boy replied. “Mother merely had reference to the open sea. A punt would have little chance out there if it were caught between the surf and the rocks, but here it is always calm.”
While they had been talking, Gib had been busy letting his home-made anchor overboard. It was a heavy piece of iron tied to a rope, which in turn was fastened to the bow.
“Hold on there, Cap’n!” Dick merrily called. “Let the passengers ashore before you anchor.” Gib grinned as he drew the heavy piece of iron back into the punt. Then Dick rowed close to the rocks and assisted the girls out.
“What shall we do now?” he turned to ask when he saw that Gib had pushed off again. He dropped the anchor a little more than a boat length from the point, pulled off his shoes and stockings and waded to the rocks. After putting them on again he joined the others, who had started to climb.
When they reached the wide, flat “tiptop” rock Dories sank down, exclaiming, “Honestly, I never was so hungry before in all my life.” Then, laughingly, she added, “Nann Sibbett, here we have been carrying that box of lunch all this time and forgot to eat it. The boys must be starved.”
“Whoopla!” Dick shouted. “Starved doesn’t half express my famished condition. Does it yours, Gib?”
The red-headed boy beamed. “I’m powerful hungry all right,” he acknowledged, “but I’m sort o’ used to that.” However, he sat down when he was invited to do so and ate the good sandwiches given him with as much relish as the others.
Half an hour later they were again on the sand walking toward the row of cottages. Nann glanced at the upper window of the Burton cabin, and Dick, noticing, glanced in the same direction. Then, smiling at the girl, he said, “I guess, after all, there has been no one in the cottage. The blind is still closed just as I left it yesterday.”
“We’ll look again tonight,” Nann said, adding, “We’ll each have to carry a lantern.”
“What are you two planning?” Dories asked suspiciously.
“Can’t you guess the meaning that underlies our present conversation?” Nann smilingly inquired.
“Goodness, I’m almost afraid that I can,” was her friend’s queer confession. “I do believe you are plotting a visit to the old ruin at the turn of the tide, and that will not be until midnight, Gib said.”
“It’s something like that,” Dick agreed.
“Well, you can count me out.” Dories shuddered as she spoke.
Nann laughed. “I know just exactly what will happen (this teasingly) when you hear me tiptoeing down the back stairs. You’ll dart after me; for you know you’re afraid to stay alone in our loft at night.”
“You are wrong there,” Dories contended. “Now that I know about the ghost, I won’t be afraid to stay alone, and I would be terribly afraid to go to the ruin at midnight, even with three companions.”
“Speaking of lanterns,” Dick put in, “if it’s foggy we won’t be able to go at all. That would be running unnecessary risks, but if it is clear, there ought to be a full moon shining along about midnight, and that will make all the light we will need.” Then he hastened to add, “But we’ll take lanterns, for we might need them inside the old ruin, and what is more, I’ll take my flashlight.”
The boys had left the white horse tied to the cottage nearest the road. When they had mounted, Spindly started off as suddenly as hours before it had stopped.
“Good-bye,” Dick waved his cap to the girls, “we’ll whistle when we get to the beach.”
“Just look at Spindly gallop,” Dories said. “The poor thing is eager to get to its dinner, I suppose.” Arm in arm they turned toward their home-cabin.
“My, such exciting things are happening!” Nann exclaimed joyfully. “I wouldn’t have missed this month by the sea for anything.”
Dories shuddered. “I’ll have to confess that I’m not very keen about visiting the old ruin at——” She interrupted herself to cry out excitedly, “Nann, do look over toward the island. We forgot all about that sea plane. There it is just taking to the air. What do you suppose it has been doing out on that desolate island all this time?”
Nann shook her head, then shaded her eyes to watch the airplane as it soared high, again headed for Boston.
“Little do you guess, Mr. Pilot,” she called to him, “that tonight we are to discover the secret of your visits to the old ruin.”
“Maybe!” Dories put in laconically.
Never had two girls been more interested and excited than were Dories and Nann as midnight neared. Of course they neither of them slept a wink nor had they undressed. Nann had truly prophesied. Dories declared that when she came to think of it, nothing could induce her to stay alone in that loft room at midnight, and that if she were to meet a ghost or any other mysterious person, she would rather meet him in company of Nann, Dick and Gib.
Every hour after they retired, they crept from bed to gaze out of the small window which overlooked the ocean. At first the fog was so dense that they could see but dimly the white line of rushing surf out by the point of rocks.
“Well, we might as well give up the plan,” Dories announced as it neared eleven and the sky was still obscured.
But Nann replied that when the moon was full it often succeeded in dispelling the fog by some magic it seemed to possess, and that she didn’t intend to go to sleep until she was sure that the boys weren’t coming. She declared that she wouldn’t miss the adventure for anything.
Dories fell asleep, however, and, for that matter, so, too, did Nann, and since they were both very weary from the unusual excitement and late hours, they would not have awakened until morning had it not been for a low whistle at the back of the cabin.
Instantly Nann sprang up. “That must be Gib,” she whispered. Then added, jubilantly: “It’s as bright as day. The moon is shining now in all its splendor.”
In five seconds the two girls had crept down the outer stairway, and as they tiptoed across the back porch, two dark forms emerged from the shadows and approached them.
“Hist!” Gib whispered melodramatically, bent on making the adventure as mysterious as possible. “You gals track along arter us fellows, and don’t make any noise.”
Then without further parley, Gib darted into the shadow of the woodshed, and from there crept stealthily along back of the seven boarded-up cabins.
“What’s the idea of stealing along like this?” Nann inquired when the wide sandy spaces were reached.
“We thought we’d keep hidden as much as possible,” Dick told her. “For if that airplane pilot is anywhere around, we don’t want him to get wise to us.”
“But, of course, he isn’t around,” Dories said. “How could he be? An airplane can’t fly over our beach without being heard. It would waken us from the deepest sleep, I am sure.”
They were walking four abreast toward the point which loomed darkly ahead of them. “I suppose you’re right,” Dick agreed, “but it sort of adds to the zip of it to pretend we’re going to steal upon that airplane pilot and catch him at whatever it is that he comes here to do.”
The girls did not need much assistance in climbing the rocks nor in descending on the side of the cove. Gibralter, as before, removed his shoes and stockings, waded out to the punt, drew up the anchor and then returned for the others. The moon had risen high enough in the clear starlit sky to shine down into the narrow channel in the marsh and, as the water deepened continually and was flowing inward, it was merely a matter of steering the flat-bottomed boat, which the boys did easily, Dick in the stern with an oar while Gib in the bow caught the reeds first on one side and then on the other, thus keeping the blunt nose of the punt always in the middle of the creek.
“Sh! Don’t say a loud word,” Gib cautioned, as they reached the curve where the afternoon before they had run aground.
“Goodness, you make me feel shivery all over,” Dories whispered. “Who do you suppose would hear if we did speak out loud?”
“Dunno,” Dick replied, “but we won’t take any chances.”
The creek was perceptibly widening and the rising tide carried them along more swiftly, but still the reeds were high over their heads and so, even though Dick was standing as he pushed with an oar, he could not see the old ruin, but abruptly the marsh ended and there, high and dry on a mound, stood the object of their search, looking more forlorn and haunted than it had from a distance.
The boys had been about to run the boat up on the mound, when suddenly, and without a sound of warning, Dick shoved the punt as fast he could back into the shelter of the reeds from which they had just emerged.
“Why d’y do that?” Gib inquired in a low voice. “D’y see anything that scared you, kid?”
“I saw it, too!” Dories eyes were wide and startled. “That is, I thought I saw a light, but it went out so quickly I decided maybe it was the moonlight flashing on something.”
“Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t.” Dick moved the punt close to the edge of the reeds that they might observe the ruin from a safe distance.
“But who could be in there?” Nann wondered. “We have never seen anyone around except the pilot of the airplane and we have all agreed that he can’t be here tonight.”
“No, he isn’t!” Dick was fast recovering his courage. “I believe Dories may have been right Probably it was only reflected moonlight. Perhaps you girls had better remain in the punt while we fellows investigate.”
“No, indeed, we’ll all go together.” Nann settled the matter. “Now shove back up to the mound, Dick, and let’s get out.” This was done and the four young people climbed from the punt and stood for a long silent moment staring at the ruin that loomed so dark and desolate just ahead of them.
“Thar ’tis! Thar’s that light agin!” Gib seized his friend’s arm and pointed, adding with conviction: “Dori was right. It’s suthin’ swingin’ in the wind an’ flashin’ in the moonlight.”
“Gib,” Nann said, “that is probably what the people in Siquaw Center have seen on moonlight nights.”
“Like’s not!” the red-headed lad agreed. Then stealthily they tiptoed toward the two tall pillars that stood like ghostly sentinels in front of the roofless part of the house which had once been the salon.
The side walls were crumbled, but the rear wall stood erect, supporting one side of the roof which tipped forward till it reached the ground, although one corner was upheld by a heap of fallen stone.
“I suppose we’ll have to creep beneath that corner if we want to see what’s under the roof,” Dick said. He looked anxiously at the girls as he spoke, but Nann replied briskly, “Of course we will. Who’ll lead the way?”
“Since I have a flashlight, I will,” the city boy offered. “Here, Nann, give me your lantern and I’ll light it. Then if you girls get separated from us boys, you won’t be in the dark.”
“Goodness, Dick!” Dories shivered. “What in the world is going to separate us? Can’t we keep all close together?”
“Course we can,” Gib cheerfully assured her. “Dick kin go in furst, you girls follow, an’ I’ll be rear guard.”
“You mean I can go in when I find an opening,” the city boy turned back to whisper. Somehow they just couldn’t bring themselves to talk out loud.
Nann held her lantern high and looked at the corner nearest where a crumbling wall upheld the roof. “There ought to be room to creep in over there,” she pointed, “if it weren’t for all that debris on the ground.”
“We’ll soon dispose of that,” Dick said, going to the spot and placing his flashlight on a rock that it might illumine their labors. The two boys fell to work with a will tossing away bricks and stones and broken pieces of plaster.
At last an opening large enough to be entered on hands and knees appeared. Dick cautioned the girls ta stay where they were until he had investigated. Dories gave a little startled cry when the boy disappeared, fearing that the wall or the roof might fall on him. After what seemed like a very long time, they heard a low whistle on the inside of the opening. Gib peered under and received whispered instructions from Dick. “It’s safe enough as far as I can see. Bring the girls in.” And so Dories crept through the opening, followed by Nann and Gib. Rising to their feet they found themselves in what had one time been a large and handsomely furnished drawing-room. A huge chandelier with dangling crystals still hung from the cross-beams, and in the night wind that entered from above they kept up a constant low jangling noise. Heavy pieces of mahogany furniture were tilted at strange angles where the rotting floor had given way.
“Watch your step, girls,” Dick, in the lead, turned to caution. “See, there’s a big hole ahead. I’ll go around it first to be sure that the boards will hold. Aha, yonder is a partition that is still standing. I wonder what room is beyond that.”
“Look out, Dick!” came in a low terrorized cry from Dories. The boy turned to see the girl, eyes wide and frightened, pointing toward a dark corner ahead. “There’s a man crouching over there. I’m sure of it! I saw his face.”
Instantly Dick swung the flashlight until it illumined the corner toward which Dories was still pointing. There was unmistakably a face looking at them with piercing dark eyes that were heavily overhung with shaggy grey brows.
For one terrorized moment the four held their breath. Even Dick and Gib were puzzled. Then, with an assumption of bravery, the former called: “Say, who are you? Come on out of there. We’re not here to harm anything.”
But the upper part of the face (that was all they could see) did not change expression, and so Dick advanced nearer. Then his relieved laughter pealed forth.
“Some man—that,” he said, as he flashed the light beyond the pile of debris which partly concealed the face.
“Why, if it isn’t an old painting!” Nann ejaculated.
And that, indeed, was what it proved to be. Battered by its fall, the broken frame stood leaning against a partition.
“I believe its a portrait of that cruel old Colonel Woodbury himself,” Dories remarked. Then eagerly added, “I do wish we could find a picture of that sweet girl, his daughter. Ever since Gib told us her story I have thought of her as being as lovely as a princess. Though I don’t suppose a real princess is always beautiful.”
“I should say not! I’ve seen pictures of them that couldn’t hold a candle to Nann, here.” This was Dick’s blunt, boyish way of saying that he admired the fearless girl.
Gib, having found a heavy cane, was poking around in the piles of debris that bordered the partition and his exclamation of delight took the others to his side as rapidly as they could go.
“What have you found, old man?” Dick asked, eagerly peering at a heap of rubbish.
“Nuther picture, seems like, or leastwise I reckon it’s one.”
Gib busied himself tossing stones and fragments of plaster to one side, and when he could free it, he lifted a canvas which faced the wall and turned it so that light fell full upon it.
“Gee-whiliker, it’s yer princess all right, all right!” he averred. “Say, wasn’t she some beaut, though?”
There were sudden tears in Nann’s eyes as she spoke. “Oh, you poor, poor girl,” she said as she bent above the pictured face, “how you have suffered since that long-ago day when some artist painted your portrait.”
“Even then she wasn’t happy,” Dories put in softly. “See that little half-wistful smile? It’s as though she felt much more like crying.”
“And now she is a woman and over in Europe somewhere with a little girl and boy,” Nann took up the tale; but Gib amended: “Not so very little. Didn’t we cal’late that if they’re livin’ the gal’d be about sixteen, an’ the boy eighteen or nineteen?”
“Why, that’s so.” Nann looked up brightly. “When I spoke I was remembering the story as you told it, and how sad the young mother looked when she landed from the snow-white yacht and led a little boy and girl up to this very house to beg her father to forgive her. But I recall now, you said that was at least ten years ago.”
“What shall we do with this beautiful picture?” Dories inquired. “It doesn’t seem a bit right to leave it here in all this rubbish, now that we’ve found it.”
“Let’s take it into the next room,” Dick said; “maybe we’ll find a better place to leave it.”
They had reached an opening in the rear partition, but the heavy carved door still hung on one hinge, obstructing their passage.
“Wemustget through somehow,” Nann, the adventurous, said. “I feel in my bones that the next room holds something that will help solve the mystery of the air pilot’s visits.”
Dories held the painting while Nann flashed the light where it would best aid the boys in removing the debris that held the old door in such a way that it obstructed their passage into the room back of the salon.
A long half-hour passed and the boys labored, lifting stones and heavy pieces of ceiling, but, when at last the floor space in front of the heavy door was cleared, they found that something was holding it tight shut on the other side.
“Gee-whiliker!” Dick ejaculated, removing his cap and wiping his brow. “Talk about buried treasure. If it’s as hard to get at as it is to get through this door, I——”
He was interrupted by the younger girl, who said: “Let’s pretend there is a treasure behind this door, and after all, maybe there is. Perhaps the air pilot is a smuggler of some kind and brings things here to hide.” Dories had made a suggestion which had not occurred to the boys.
“That’s so!” Dick agreed. “But if he gets into the next room, he must have an entrance around at the back of the ruin. No one has been through this door since the flood undermined the old house.”
Gib was still trying to open the stubborn door. He put his shoulder against it. “Come on, Dick, help a fellow, will you?” he sang out.
The boys pushed as hard as they could and the door moved just the least bit, then seemed to wedge in a way that no further assaults upon it could effect.
“Whizzle! What if that pilot feller is on the other side holdin’ it. What if he is?”
“But he couldn’t be,” Nann protested. “We all agreed long ago that he couldn’t be here because how could he arrive in the airplane without being heard?”
“I know what I’m a-goin’ to do,” Gib’s expression was determined. “I’m a-goin’ to smash a hole in that ol’ door and crawl through.”
Dick sprang to get a heavy stone from one of the crumbling side walls and Gib, having procured another, the two boys began a battering which soon resulted in a loud splintering sound and one of the heavy panels was crashed in.
Gib wiggled his way through and Dick handed him the searchlight. “Huh, we’re bright uns, we are!” came in a muffled voice from the other room. “Thar’s as much rubbish a holdin’ the door on this side as thar was on the other, but I, fer one, jest won’t move a stick o’ it.”
“No need to!” Nann said blithely. “Make that hole a little bigger and we can all go through the way you did.”
This was quickly done and the boys assisted the two girls through the opening. Then they stood close together looking about them as Dick flashed the light. The room was not quite as much of a wreck as the salon had been. In it a mahogany table stood and the chairs with heavily carved legs and backs had been little harmed. With a little cry of delight, Nann dragged Dories toward an old-fashioned mahogany sideboard. “Don’t you love it?” she said enthusiastically, turning a glowing face toward her companion. “Wouldn’t you adore having it?” But before Dories could voice her admiration, Dick, having looked at his watch, exclaimed: “Gee-whiliker, I’ll have to beat it if I am to catch that early train back to Boston. I hate to break up the party.” He hesitated, glancing from one to the other.
“Of course you must go!” Nann, the sensible, declared. “There’s another week-end coming.” Then turning to her friend, who was still holding the picture, she said: “Dori, let’s leave the painting of our princess standing on the old mahogany sideboard.” When this had been done, she addressed the picture: “Good-bye, Lady of the Phantom Yacht. Keep those sweet blue eyes of yours wide open that you may tell us what mysterious things go on in this old ruin while we are away.”
The pictured eyes were to gaze upon more than the pictured lips would be able to tell.
The young people found the grey of dawn in the sky when they emerged through the hole under one corner of the roof and a new terror presented itself. “What if the receding tide had left their boat high and dry.” But luckily there was still enough water in the narrow creek to take them out to the cove. Since they were in haste, the sail was put in place and a brisk wind from the land took them out and around the point. There was still too high a surf to make possible a landing on the platform rock and so the girls were obliged to go with the boys as far as the inlet in which Gib kept his punt. The white horse had been tied to a scrubby tree near, but, before he mounted, Dick took off his hat and held out a hand to each of the girls in turn, assuring them that he had been ever so glad to meet them and that if all went well, he would return the following week-end.
“And we will promise not to visit the old ruin again until you come,” Nann told him. The boy’s face brightened. “O, I say!” he exclaimed, “that’s too much to ask.” But Gib assured him that half the fun was having him along.
Just before they rode away, Dick turned to call: “Keep a watch-out on our cabin, will you, Nann? I really don’t believe anyone has been there, however. Mother remembered that she had left the back door open.”
“All right. We will. Good-bye.”
Slowly the girls walked toward their home-cabin. “Do you suppose we ought to tell Aunt Jane that we visited the old ruin at midnight?” Dories asked.
“Why, no, dear, I don’t,” was the thoughtful reply. “Your Aunt Jane told us to do anything we could find to amuse us, don’t you recall, that very first day after we had opened up the cottage and were wondering what to do?”
Dories nodded. “I remember. She must have heard us talking while we were dusting and straightening the living-room. That was the day that I said I believed the place was haunted, and you said you hoped there was a ghost or something mysterious.”
Nann stopped and faced her companion. Her eyes were merry. “Dori Moore,” she exclaimed, “I believe your auntdidhear my wish and that she has been trying to grant it by writing those mysterious messages and leaving them where we would find them.”
“Maybe you are right,” her friend agreed. “I wish we could catch her in the act.” Then Dories added: “Nann, if Aunt Jane is really doing that just for fun, then she can’t be such an old grouch as I thought her. You know I told you how I was sure that I heard her chuckling.”
The older girl nodded, then as the back porch of the cabin had been reached, they went quietly up the steps and into the kitchen.
“It’s going to be a long week waiting for Dick to return,” Dories said as she began to make a fire in the stove. “What shall we do to pass away the time?”
Nann smiled brightly. “O, we’ll find plenty to do!” she said. “There is that box of books in the loft. Surely there will be a few that we would like to read and that your Aunt Jane would like to hear. We have left her alone so much,” Nann continued, “don’t you think this last week that we ought to spend more time adding to her happiness if we can?”
Dories flushed. “I wish I’d been the one to say that,” she confessed, “since Great-Aunt Jane loved my father so much when he was a boy.”
Although the girls had their breakfast early, it was not until the usual hour that Dories took the tray in to her aunt. Nann followed with something that had been forgotten. They were surprised to see the old woman propped up in bed reading the book of ghost stories which Dories had left in the room. She fairly beamed at them when they entered. Then she asked, “Do you girls believe in ghosts?”
“Oh, no. Aunt Jane,” Dories began rather hesitatingly. “That is, I don’t believe that I do.”
The sharp grey eyes, in which a twinkle seemed to be lurking, turned toward Nann. “Do you?” she asked briefly.
“No, indeed, Miss Moore, I do not,” was the emphatic reply, then, just for mischief, the girl asked, “Do you?”
“Indeed I do,” was the unexpected response. “A ghost visited me last night and told me that you girls had gone with Gibralter Strait and the Burton boy over to visit the old ruin.”
“Aunt Jane! Miss Moore!” came in two amazed exclamations.
“We did go. I sincerely hope you do not object,” the older girl hastened to say.
“No, I don’t object. There’s nothing over there that can hurt you. Now I’d like my breakfast, if you please.”
When the girls returned to the kitchen, Dories whispered, “Nann, how in the world did she know?”
The older girl shook her head. “Mysteries seem to be piling up instead of being solved,” she said.
“Do you suppose Aunt Jane knows who the air pilot is and why he goes to the old ruin?” Dories wondered as they went about their morning tasks.
“I’ll tell you what, let’s stay around home pretty closely for a few days and see if anyone does visit Aunt Jane, shall we?”
The old woman seemed to be glad to have the companionship of the girls. They read to her in the morning, and on the third afternoon their suspicions were aroused by the fact that their hostess asked them why they stayed around the cabin all of the time. It was quite evident to them that she wanted to be left alone.
“Would it be too far for you to walk into town and see if there isn’t some mail for me?” Miss Moore inquired early on the fourth morning of the week. “I am expecting some very important letters. That boy Gibralter was told to bring them the minute they came, but these Straits are such a shiftless lot.” Then, almost eagerly, looking from one girl to another, she inquired: “It isn’t too far for you to walk, is it? You can hire Gibralter to bring you back in the stage.”
“We’d love to go,” Nann said most sincerely, and Dories echoed the sentiment. The truth was the girls had been puzzled because Gib had not appeared. Indeed, nothing had happened for four days. Although they had searched everywhere they could think of, there had been no message for them telling in how many days they would know all. An hour later, when they were walking along the marsh-edged sandy road leading to town, they discussed the matter freely, since no one could possibly overhear. “If Aunt Jane really has been writing those notes and leaving them for us to find, do you suppose that she has stopped writing them because she thinks we suspect her of being the ghost?” Dories asked.
“I don’t see why she should suspect, as we have said nothing in her hearing; in fact, we were out on the beach when I told you that I thought your Aunt Jane might be writing the notes,” Nann replied.
Dories nodded. “That is true,” she agreed. Then she stopped and stared at her companion as she exclaimed: “Nann Sibbett, I don’t believe that Aunt Jane writes them at all. I believe Gibralter Strait does. There hasn’t been a note for four days anywhere in the cabin, and Gib hasn’t been to the point in all that time. There, now, doesn’t that seem to prove my point?”
“It surely does!” Nann said as they started walking on toward the town. “Only I thought we agreed that probably Gib couldn’t write. But I do recall that he said he went to a country school in the winter months when his father didn’t need him to help in the store.”
“If Gib writes them he is a good actor,” Dories commented. “He certainly seemed very much surprised when we showed him the notes, you remember.”
Nann agreed. “It’s all very puzzling,” she said, then added, “What a queer little hamlet this is?” They were passing the first house in Siquaw Center. “I don’t suppose there are more than eight houses in all,” she continued. “What do you suppose the people do for a living?”
“Work on the railroad, I suppose,” Nann guessed. They had reached the ramshackle building that held the post office and general store when they saw Gib driving the stage around from the barns. “Hi thar!” he called to them excitedly. “I got some mail for yo’uns. I was jest a-goin’ to fetch it over, like I promised Miss Moore. It didn’t come till jest this mornin’. Thar’s some mail for yo’uns, too. A letter from Dick Burton. He writ me one along o’ yourn.”
The girls climbed up on the high seat by Gib’s side. The day had been growing very warm as noon neared and they had found it hard walking in the sand, and so they were not sorry that they were to ride back. Gib gave them two long legal envelopes addressed to Miss Moore and the letter from Dick.
Eagerly Nann opened it, as it had been written especially to her, and after reading it she exclaimed: “Well, isn’t this queer?”
“What?” Dories, who was consumed with curiosity, exclaimed.
“Dick writes that he told his mother that he had found that upper front room window open and the blind swinging, but she declares that sheknowsall of the upper windows were closed and the blinds securely fastened. She had been in every room to try them just before she left, and that was what had delayed her so long that, in her hurry, she took the key out of the back door, hung it in its hiding place, without having turned it in the lock. Dick says that he’s wild to get back to Siquaw, and that the first thing he is going to do is to search in that upper room for clues.”
Gib nodded. “That’s what he wrote into my letter. He’s comin’ down Friday arter school lets out, so’s we’ll have more time over to the ruin. Dick says he’s sot on ferritin’ out what that pilot fella does thar.”
Old Spindly seemed to feel spryer than usual and trotted along the sandy road at such a pace that in a very little while they had reached the end of it at the beach.
“Wall, so long,” Gib called when the girls had climbed down from the high seat, but before they had turned to go, he ejaculated: “By time, if I didn’t clear fergit ter give yo’uns the rest o’ yer mail. Here ’tis!” Leaning down, he handed them another envelope. Before they could look at it, he had snapped his whip and started back toward town. The girls watched the old coach sway in the sand for a minute, then they glanced at the envelope. On it in red ink was written both of their names.
“Well of all queer things!” Nann ejaculated. Tearing it open, they found a message: “Today you will know all.”
The girls stood where Gib had left them staring at each other in puzzled amazement. “Well, what do you make of it?” Dories was the first to exclaim. Nann laughingly shook her head. “I don’t know unless this confirms our theory that Gib writes the notes. I almost think it does.”
They started walking toward the cabin. “Well, time will tell and a short time, too, if we are to know all today,” Dories remarked, then added, “That long walk has made me ravenously hungry and we haven’t a thing cooked up.” Then she paused and sniffed. “What is that delicious odor? It smells like ham and something baking, doesn’t it?”
“We surely are both imaginative,” Nann agreed, “for I also scent a most appetizing aroma on the air. But who could be cooking? We left Miss Moore in bed and anyway, of course, it is not she.”
They had reached the kitchen door and saw that it was standing open and that the tempting odor was actually wafting therefrom. Puzzled indeed, they bounded up the steps.
A surprising sight met their gaze. Miss Jane Moore, dressed in a soft lavender gown partly covered with a fresh white apron, turned from the stove to beam upon them; her eyes were twinkling, her cheeks were rosy from the excitement and the heat.
“Aunt Jane! Miss Moore!” the girls cried in astonishment. “Ought you to be cooking? Are you strong enough?”
“Of course I am strong enough,” was the brisk reply. “Haven’t I been resting for nearly two weeks? I thought probably you girls would be hungry after your long walk.” Then, as she saw the legal envelopes, she added with apparent satisfaction: “Well, they have come at last, have they? Put them in on my dresser, Dories; then come right back. It is such a fine day I thought we would take the table out on the sheltered side porch and have a sort of picnic-party.”
It was hard for the girls to believe that this was the same old woman who had been so grouchy most of the time since they had known her. Would surprises never cease? The girls were delighted with the plan and carried the small kitchen table to the sunny, sheltered side porch and soon had it set for three.
When they returned they found the flushed old woman taking a pan of biscuits from the oven. How good they looked! Then came baked ham and sweet potatoes, and a brown Betty pudding. The elderly cook seemed to greatly enjoy the girls’ surprise and delight. They made her comfortable in an easy willowed chair at one end of the table facing the sea and, when the viands had been served, they ate with great relish. To their amazement their hostess partook of the entire menu with as evident a zest as their own. Dories could no longer remain silent. “Aunt Jane,” she blurted out, “ought you to eat so heartily after such a long fast? You haven’t had anything but tea and toast since we came.”
Nann had glanced quickly and inquiringly at the old woman, and the suspicions she had previously entertained were confirmed by the merry reply: “I’ll have to confess that I’ve been an old fraud.” Miss Moore was chuckling again. “Every time you girls went away and I was sure you were going to be gone for some time, I got up and had a good meal.”
“But, Aunt Jane,” Dories’ brow gathered in a puzzled frown, “why did you have to do that? It would have been a lot more fun all along to have had our dinners all together like this.”
Miss Moore nodded. “Yes, it would have been, but I’m an odd one. There was something I wanted to find out and I took my own queer way of going about it.”
“D—did you find it out, Aunt Jane?” Dories asked, almost anxiously.
“Yes and no,” was the enigmatical answer. Then, tantalizingly, she remarked as she leaned back in her comfortable willow chair, having finished her share of the pudding, “This is wonderful weather, isn’t it, girls? If it keeps up I won’t want to go back next Monday. Perhaps we’ll stay a week longer as I had planned when we first came.” Then before the girls could reply, the grey eyes that could be so sharply penetrating turned to scrutinize Dories. “You look much better than you did when we came. You had a sort of fretful look as though you had a grudge against life. Now you actually look eager and interested.” Then, after a glance at Nann, “You are both getting brown as Indians.”
Would Miss Moore never come to the subject that was uppermost in the thoughts of the two girls? If she had written the message telling them that today they were to know all, why didn’t she begin the story, if it was to be a story?
How Dories hoped that she was to hear what had become of the fortune she had always believed should have been her father’s. Her own mother had never told her anything about it, but she had heard them talking before her father died; she had not understood them, but as she grew older she seemed vaguely to remember that there should have been money from somewhere, enough to have kept poverty from their door and more, probably, since her father’s Aunt Jane had so much.
But Miss Moore rose without having satisfied their burning curiosity. “Now, girls,” she said, “I’ll go in and read my letters while you wash the dishes. Later, when the fog drifts in, build a fire on the hearth and I’ll tell you a story.” Then she left them, going to her own room and closing the door.
“I’m so excited that I can hardly carry the dishes without dropping them,” Dories confided to Nann when at last they had returned the table to its place in the kitchen and were busily washing and drying the dishes. “What do you suppose the story is to be about?”
“You and your mother and father chiefly, I believe,” Nann said with conviction.
“Aunt Jane’s saying that she had a story to tell us proves, doesn’t it, that she wrote the messages?”
“I think so, Dori.”
“I hope the fog will come in early,” the younger girl remarked as she hung up the dish-wiper on the line back of the stove.
“It will. It always does. Now let’s go out to the shed and bring in a big armful of driftwood. There’s one log that I’ve been saving for some special occasion. Surely this is it.”
As Nann had said, the fog came in soon after midafternoon; the girls had drawn the comfortable willow chair close to the hearth. The wood was in place and eagerly the girls awaited the coming of their hostess. At last the bedroom door opened and Miss Moore, without the apron over her lavender dress, emerged. Although she smiled at them, the discerning Nann decided that the letters had contained some disappointing news. Dories at once set fire to the driftwood and a cheerful blaze leaped up. When Miss Moore was seated the girls sat on lower chairs close together. Their faces told their eager curiosity.
Glancing from one to the other, their hostess said: “Dori, you and Nann have been the best of friends for years, I think you wrote me.”
“Oh, yes, Aunt Jane,” was the eager reply, “we started in kindergarten together and we’ve been in the same classes through first year High, but now Nann’s father has taken her away from me. They are going to live in Boston. And so a favorite dream of ours will never be fulfilled, and that was to graduate together.”
“If only your mother would consent to come and live with me, then your wish would be fulfilled,” the old woman began when Dories exclaimed, “Why, Aunt Jane, I didn’t even know that youwantedus to live with you in Boston.”
Miss Moore nodded gravely. “But I do and have. I have written your mother repeatedly, since my dear nephew died, telling her that I would like you three to make your home with me, but it seems that she cannot forget.”
“Forget what?” Dories leaned forward to inquire. Nann had been right, she was thinking. The something they were to know did relate to her father’s affairs, she was now sure.