Mary Louise leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“He said Cliff Hunter set the place on fire himself—to get the insurance. Now that his father is dead, the bungalow belongs to him.”
“How awful!” exclaimed Jane. “Do you believe that, Mary Lou?”
“No, I don’t—knowing Cliff as I do. Do you, Mother?”
“Certainly not,” replied Mrs. Gay emphatically. “It’s just David’s jealousy. He’s poor himself, and he has a sort of grudge against all rich people.”
“Maybe,” admitted Mary Louise. “David never did like Cliff, all the summers they’ve both been coming up here to Shady Nook.”
“I wish I could meet this young Hunter,” lamented Jane. “I’m keen to get a look at him.”
“Maybe he isn’t here any more,” remarked Mary Louise. “Since the bungalow is gone, where would he stay?”
“The Hunters are living over at the Royal Hotel, I think,” Freckles informed them. “Seems to me that’s what Larry Reed said.”
“Then Cliff will be over to see you,” observed Mrs. Gay confidently.