Philip, his clear, blue-gray eyes sparkling with laughter, hurried to the rescue. He extricated Penny from the mound of blankets she was carrying and helped her hang them on the line.
As they worked together, fighting the capricious breeze that threatened every minute to blow the blankets away, Penny said excitedly:
“I can’t believe it, Phil. We’re practically ready to open the Lodge for guests!”
“Well, not quite,” Philip said soberly. He was twenty, a year older than Penny, and usually wore a rather serious air. This was partly due to his responsibilities as the head of the Allen family.
Their Uncle John Allen had died suddenly a year ago leaving the four orphans, Penny, Philip, Jimmy and Marjorie, to shift for themselves. He had left the Lodge to Philip and a beautiful yacht, the Penny Allen, to Penny.
Recently, Philip had decided to turn his inheritance into a business venture. The lovely house, situated in the Michigan woods near Lake Superior, would make an ideal summer hotel. Ever since the first of June they had all been busy helping to get it ready for many of their old friends who planned to spend the summer there.
“Don’t look so serious, Phil,” Penny cried. “We are just about ready.”
Philip’s eyes, under their straight, dark eyebrows, were thoughtful. “We’re not even organized yet, Penny,” he said. “The winter just seemed to go like lightning.” A quick smile dispelled his seriousness. “I guess we spent too much of the holidays enjoying the winter sports.”
“Pooh,” Penny said impulsively. “We were all together and we had fun. We deserved that.”
Orphans since thirteen-year-old Marjorie, the youngest, had been a baby, the Allens had hardly known one another, for they had all gone to different schools and summer camps. But in spite of that, they had managed to maintain a merry and cheerful household.