Doris drew her into her own room and shut the door. The communicating door to her mother’s room was also shut, so they were quite alone. When Sally was seated, Doris laid a bulky bundle in her lap.
“What is it?” queried Sally, wide-eyed, wondering what all this could have to do with their mystery.
“I’ll tell you,” said Doris. “If it hadn’t been for this awful storm, I’d have told you and asked you about it next morning, but I didn’t want to over the ’phone. So I just took things in my own hands, and here’s the result.” Sally was more bewildered than ever.
“What’s the result?”
“Why, just this,” went on Doris. “That night, after we’d been to Slipper Point, I lay awake again the longest time, thinking and thinking. And suddenly a bright idea occurred to me. You know, whenever I’m worried or troubled or puzzled, I always go to Father and ask his advice. I can go to Mother too, but she’s so often ill and miserable, and I’ve got into the habit of not bothering her with things. But Father’s always ready, and he’s never failed me yet. So I got to wondering how I could get some help from him in this affair without, of course, his suspecting anything about the secret part of it. And then, all of a sudden, I thought of—books! There must be some books that would help us,—books that would give us some kind of information that might lead to a clue.
“So next morning, very first thing, I sent a special delivery letter to Father asking him to send me down at once any books he could find about pirates and such things. And, bless his heart, he sent me down a whole bundle of them that just got here this morning!”
Sally eyed them in a sort of daze. “But—but won’t your father guess just what we’re up to?” she ventured, dubiously. “He will ask you what you want them for, won’t he?”
“No, indeed,” cried Doris. “That’s just the beauty of Father. He’d never ask me why I want them in a hundred years. If I choose to explain to him, all right, and if I don’t he knows that’s all right too, for he trusts me absolutely, not to do anything wrong. So, when he comes down, as I expect he will in a week or so, he’ll probably say, ‘Pirates all right, daughter?’ and that’s all there’ll be to it.” Sally was at last convinced, though she marvelled inwardly at this quite wonderful species of father.
“But now, let’s look at the books,” went on Doris. “I’m perfectly certain we’ll find something in them that’s going to give us a lift.” She unwrapped the bundle and produced three volumes. One, a very large one, was called “The Book of Buried Treasure.” Another, “Pirates and Buccaneers of Our Own Coasts,” and, last but not least, “The Life of Captain Kidd.” Sally’s eyes fairly sparkled, especially at the last, and they hurriedly consulted together as to who should take which books first. At length it was decided that Sally take the “Buried Treasure Book,” as it was very bulky, and Doris would go over the other two. Then they would exchange. This ought to keep them fully occupied till fair weather set in again, after which, armed with so much valuable information, they would again tackle their problem on its own ground—at Slipper Point.
It was two days later when they met again. There had not been an opportunity to exchange the books, but on the first fair morning Sally and Genevieve rowed up in “45,” and Doris leaped in exclaiming: