AN ANGRY DRUGGIST
“We didn’t want to make a fuss over it before the boys,” Cora explained to a number of the girls, who, next morning, were seated about the bungalow side porch, trying to get in a few stitches of embroidery. “They would be sure to go straight at those land fellows, and we think—Denny and all of us—that the best way to do is to watch them carefully for a while.”
“But what happened?” demanded Lottie, impatiently.
“We don’t know exactly what, but it appears that while Denny was out, fishing us in, someone entered his shack and ransacked it.”
“Burglars! What for? In that hut!” exclaimed Belle.
“We don’t know that, either,” continued Cora. “We can only surmise. They must have been after something that was neither money nor table silver.” She laughed a little at the idea of anyone trying to rob the humble cabin of a fisherman. “The little terrier is never tied up and never troubles anybody, but it seems he did object to the intrusion, for he has a cut on one leg, made, possibly, by a heavy shoe, and when Denny found him he was tied tight to a hook in the woodshed. Denny will never forgive whoever tied Brian.”
“But did the thieves take anything?” Bess wanted to know.
“Not a thing. Of course there was nothing an ordinary thief would have any use for; but it looks as if they were searching for something in particular, for everything was turned inside out. Every strip of carpet was pulled up and loose boards in the floor pried away. It really is too bad for Denny. He will have a lot of trouble getting things in order again, and you know he is neat, for a lone fisherman.”
“Isn’t that outrageous!” exclaimed Belle. “I think, Cora, we should have told the boys and had them make a charge against whoever may be guilty. They will be ransacking here next.”
“Oh, goodness! I hope not,” cried Marita. “I think we should have police protection.”
“And have officers ringing our door bell all hours of the night because someone forgot to turn out the dining room light, or the side window was found unlocked,” said Cora. “They have very few officers here, I should imagine, and if we really gave them something to do they might insist on doing it.”
“Tell us more about it,” begged Marita, who was naturally fascinated with the “scary” part.
“I only know that his shack was entered and all but torn down,” said Cora. “As to who did it, or why it was done, we can only surmise. But don’t talk too much about it. We want to keep it quiet.”
“Why?” demanded Marita.
“Because by letting other people talk about it we may be able to trace the perpetrators. We could easily find out who knew it had happened, in that way.”
“Oh, I see,” Marita answered vaguely, although her tone did not indicate comprehension. “Freda and Mrs. Lewis are going out; aren’t they?” This question implied “why” also.
“Yes,” Cora answered again. “They have some business to attend to. I told them not to hurry back for lunch—we would attend to it. We really need the exercise.”
“But I am going canoeing directly after lunch,” Lottie objected.
“After lunch?” repeated Belle. “This will be before lunch—the getting ready.”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Lottie grumbled. “It makes one’s hands so horrid to handle cooking things.”
“Were you going to paddle?” asked Cora, innocently.
“I was going to try,” admitted Lottie.
“Then your hands will be in better shape from some active work,” Cora added, mischievously. “It is awful to try to paddle with soft hands.”
“Oh, I guess mine are not any too soft,” Lottie retorted, a bit abashed that she should have fallen into the trap.
“Where are you going, Lottie?” asked Marita. “You know it is only safe to canoe near the shore. The water can be very rough sometimes.”
“I don’t think you ought to go in a canoe until you can swim,” said Cora. “You know a canoe is the most uncertain of craft, except that it is absolutely certain to upset if you draw a breath in, when you should send a breath out. Jack says a canoe is more than human, but I won’t shock your ears by saying what he thinks it is.”
“I am sure there is no danger when one sits still,” Lottie insisted, “but if you don’t want me to go, Cora——”
“Of course I want you to go, and have a nice time,” Cora explained, “but I don’t want you to upset. You should wear a bathing suit and be ready to swim in case of a spill.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” exclaimed Lottie, rather shocked. “I am going with Clem.”
“Well, I hope Clem will put you in the very bottom of the boat, and not trust to a seat. Even a big cushion is wobbly,” finished Cora. “Now, young ladies, are you ready for a tramp? We have to walk to the old village this morning to shop, unless you want to go to the dock and take Frank’s ferry. He will take us across for ten cents each, and we need things to eat.”
“Oh, do let us walk,” begged Bess. “I haven’t seen half the things that grow around here.”
“Do you grow around here?” asked Belle, maliciously, inferring that the desired walk was needed to “reduce.” A withering look was the answer she received from her twin sister. Just the same the walk was decided upon, and a little later the wintergreen path was alive with voices. It was one of the delights of Summer to tramp and ramble; and in spite of the joys of motor boating the girls were not slow to appreciate the pleasures of dry land decked in various shades of foliage green and floral tints.
The mountain laurel was at its best—that little tasselled thing we call “pfingster,” but which looks quite aristocratic enough to belong to the orchid family, made bouquets of itself in every appropriate spot, while the glorious rhododendrons put forth a display sufficiently beautiful and courageous to last all Summer.
“Oh, my, look at the style!” Lottie exclaimed as a party of young folks appeared before them. They were evidently coming from the Cliff Hotel, and made the most of that fact.
“There’s Hilda Hastings!” Cora said, in surprise. “I didn’t know she was down here.”
A remarkably pretty girl, light-haired and wearing lilac shades, with a parasol that reflected that becoming tint, was Hilda. She evidently saw, and recognized Cora just as the latter spied her.
“Cora Kimball!” cried Hilda, in the delighted way that usually marks a meeting with a home friend in the midst of vacation time. “Where did you come from?”
“Oh, Hilda!” answered Cora, advancing to meet the girl who almost ran to greet her, “I am so glad to see you. We are stopping at our own little bunk—the Motely Mote—on Pine Shade Way. And where do you put up?”
Introductions followed, and girls from the Mote were plainly delighted to meet the others from a fashionable hotel. The meeting also resulted in a general invitation from the Cliff girls to the Motes to attend a hop to be given the next evening at the hotel.
“And do bring every boy you can scrape up,” Hilda enjoined. “We shall be sure to need them.”
“What dress?” asked Lottie the Vain.
“Linen or lace, doesn’t matter in the least,” declared a young girl whom they called Madge. “We will wear whatever we fall into for dinner.”
“All right,” answered Lottie for all, fluttering at the prospect of a real hotel hop. “We will wear whatever we may find pressable—we have the awfullest time with wrinkles down here.”
“Don’t mind them,” answered Hilda. “Wrinkled clothes are a seaside fad, you know. If you have none you will be suspected of being the Press Club Trust. That’s a clothing club—not literary.”
With other pleasantries the two sets parted, but not until all sorts of invitations to come and visit had been extended and accepted.
“What nice girls,” the timid Marita remarked as the fashionable ones turned into the lane. “Isn’t Hilda pretty? Are they from Chelton?”
“She is and they are,” answered Cora. “But I do not see how we are going to that hop. The boys were going to take us out in a sail boat, you know.”
“Oh, I would be frightened to death in a sail boat,” objected Lottie.
“And perfectly safe in a canoe,” observed Belle. “Charlotte, that is scarcely understandable.”
“Well,” said Lottie, turning a deeper shade of pink, “I am afraid of that big pole in a sail boat. It looks as if it would sweep one’s head off every time it veers around.”
“Just duck,” advised Belle. “It’s a great teacher of the proper mode of ducking; and that is not to be despised, Lottie, whether one has to duck harsh words, or big poles. But I want to go sailing. I can’t see what fun there is in going into a stuffy hotel on a beautiful moonlight evening when we can go out on the water and see something.”
“Don’t you think we would see something in the Cliff ball room?” challenged Lottie.
“Peace!” called Cora, good-naturedly. “It looks as if we might have to take a vote on the question. But I can’t say that the boys would be willing to accept a negative answer.”
“Oh, won’t they come?” Lottie asked in surprise.
“I don’t believe they will forego the sail,” replied Cora. “However, we won’t decide until we ask them. If they want to postpone the water sport we may take in the hop.”
This was looked upon as a reasonable solution of the problem, and while some of the girls hoped for the sail, perhaps an equal number wished to go to the dance.
It was a delightful morning, and the woods were fairly alive with young folk. It seemed there could be very few mothers or chaperones at Crystal Bay, for even in marketing hours it was always the girls with baskets, or the boys with huge paper bags, who were encountered. On benches along the beach, to be sure, “elders” might be found sunning themselves and ruining their fading sight with alleged art embroideries, but in the matter of housekeeping it was youth that prevailed at the bay.
It was a long walk to the general store at the point, but there was a resting place there, and if one wanted to tarry and felt like dancing, a very accommodating young man sat near the piano ready to play at the shortest notice. Belle and Lottie usually took a twirl while Bess and Cora did the shopping, but to-day having walked instead of coming by motor boat they sank into a seat at the water’s edge and watched others try the newest steps.
Around the drug counter a number of men were engaged in earnest conversation with the salesman. Belle needed cold cream and was waiting her turn to tell the clerk so.
“We just about have it,” said one man to the man behind the counter. “There is no question about the legal right; it is only a matter of a lost document. We may get along without it, but we understood you were a life-long resident, knew the people, and thought perhaps you could tell us something about it. Of course we don’t want anyone’s time for nothing.”
The clerk scratched his head and looked over his glasses. The scale was tipping with white stuff and a customer was waiting.
“That may be so,” he replied, slowly, “but I should think, young fellow, that them folks themselves would know more about their own business than anyone else. Why don’t you go to them?”
“Do you think for a moment that anyone is going to do themselves out of house and home like that?” asked the taller man, angrily.
“Oh, that’s the game; is it? Well, see here! Do you think for one moment that I, Bill Sparks, am going to do a poor widow out of house and home to suit you!”
He had raised his voice to angry tones, a remarkable thing for Bill to do in business hours, but those around who heard had no blame for him. The strangers left without taking up their cigars or paying for them. Bill looked after them quizzically.
“That’s the way to answer that sort,” he remarked to no one in particular. “Too many of them speculators around the bay, lately. Cold cream?” he inquired of Bess.
Cora had seen the men, although she was in the grocery department, and when Bess told her what she had overheard she looked troubled.
“We must not put that off another day,” she told Bess. “I am convinced that those men are dishonest, for why should they go sneaking around that way? Why not ask for information from the proper persons?”
Scarcely had she spoken than Mrs. Lewis and Freda appeared in the doorway that led from the boat landing. Freda’s face was flushed, and Mrs. Lewis’s was pale.
“What is it?” Cora asked, hurrying up to them.
“They have started a mill dam across the creek,” replied Freda. “If they turn that water into use for mill purposes the whole shore of the bay will be ruined!”
“Don’t go so fast, daughter,” urged Mrs. Lewis. “We can stop them; we must get a lawyer at once.”
“Of course,” answered Cora, “I think they call it an injunction, or restraining papers. Who is your lawyer, Mrs. Lewis?”
“We haven’t any,” Freda replied for her mother. “We were told if we engaged counsel they would eat up the whole thing. Oh, isn’t it dreadful!” and the brave Freda was on the verge of tears.
“I’ll see Jack at once,” declared Cora, “and if there are not trustworthy lawyers here we will fetch our own down from Chelton. The senior member of the firm would do anything reasonable for our family, and when mother is away she leaves Jack and me full discretion. Let us hurry back before the boys get out on the water. Bess, call Belle and Lottie.”
The look of relief that spread over the widow’s face was a more eloquent form of thanks than words could have been, so without further delay they all hurried to the motor boat in which Mrs. Lewis and Freda had come over. It was from a bay front hotel and had come over for the eleven o’clock mail.
The boy at the wheel started up as soon as all were seated, and as the launch was a good-sized one the trip across the bay was both comfortable and enjoyable. Of course Belle and Lottie wanted to know more than they could be told about the coming of Freda and Mrs. Lewis, so they had to content themselves with a word and a look from Cora.
The boys were at the landing as the boat came in. This was exactly what Cora had wished for.