The S. P. Mystery

The S. P. Mystery By HARRIET PYNE GROVE THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York
Copyright MCMXXX THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY The S. P. Mystery
Made in the United States of America
THE S. P. MYSTERY
Jean Gordon rushed into the house, her face all aglow. There was some fire within which made her eyes bright and the sharp wind, which came from lakes not too far away, gave her rosy cheeks and nipped her nose as well.
Without stopping in the hall to take off her pretty red coat or the close little hat that left little but eyes, nose and mouth to be seen, she opened the door into the dining-room, from which the sound of her mother’s machine could be heard.
“O Mother! May I have the room in the attic for a club room?”
Jean had opened this door a little more decorously and now she closed it more softly than she had opened and closed the front door, whose bang her mother must have heard. With an amused smile Mrs. Gordon turned from her work. “Is this my dear hurricane, home from school?”
“It is,” laughed Jean. “Please excuse the front door, Mother. It slipped out of my hand. And I suppose I should not have shouted right out. Good afternoon, fair lady!” A deep courtesy was made in grave exaggeration before Jean ran to her mother and deposited a quick kiss upon her cheek.
“Your apology is accepted, Miss Gordon,” said Jean’s mother, with a pat upon the cold hand which Jean laid upon her chair. “Now, what is it that you want?”
“The attic room for a club,—please, Mother!”
“It is cold up there,” returned Mrs. Gordon, starting to baste the hem of a blouse which she was making for Jean.