“Why no. It’s larger and differently arranged and furnished more elaborately, too, I—I believe,” faltered Leslie, hoping she had not appeared to know too much about it.
“I wonder if we could go through it?” went on the visitor. “I—I just love to see what these little seashore places look like. They’re so different from ours.”
“Oh, I hardly think so!” cried Leslie. “You see it’s all locked up for the winter, and Mrs. Danforth, who owns it, has the key.”
The girl looked at her intently. “And there’s no other way, I suppose, beside the front door?”
“How should I know?” countered Leslie, suddenly on her guard. “If there were would it be right to try it, do you think? Wouldn’t it be too much like trespassing?”
“Oh, of course!” laughed Miss Ramsay. “I only meant that it would be fun to look it over, if there were any proper way of doing so. You see, Grandfather and I might be here another summer and I’d just love to rent a little cottage like either one of these two.”
She turned away from the window and they sauntered out of the room and back to the veranda.
“And now that you’ve seen Leslie’s bungalow, you must run over and see ours, especially as it was at ours you at first intended to call!” said Phyllis. “Come along, Leslie, and we’ll show Miss Ramsay over Fisherman’s Luck!”
It struck the girls that Miss Ramsay showed a trifle less enthusiasm about returning to the other cottage. Still, she agreed, with a fair assumption of polite interest, and they tramped back along the beach, chatting agreeably.
But she showed very genuine pleasure in the entirely different appearance of Phyllis’s abode, and a large surprise at the presence of a grand piano in so unusual a place. And when Leslie had informed her of Phyllis’s talent she eagerly demanded that they be given an immediate concert.