Amy Stonington was concerned in a mystery that she hoped would some day be unraveled. For years she had believed that John and Sarah Stonington were her father and mother, but in the first book I related how she was given to understand differently.
It appears that, when she was a baby, Amy lived in a Western city. There came a flood, and she was picked up on some wreckage. There was a note pinned to her baby dress—or, rather an envelope that had contained a note, and this was addressed to Mrs. Stonington. Amy’s mother was Mrs. Stonington’s aunt, though the two had not seen each other in many years.
Whether Amy’s parents perished in the flood, as seemed likely, or what became of them, was never known, nor was it known whether there were any other children. But Mr. Stonington, after the flood, was telegraphed for, and came to get Amy. He and his wife had kept her ever since, and shortly before this story opens they had told her of the mystery surrounding her. Of course it was a great shock to poor Amy, but she bore it bravely. She called Mr. and Mrs. Stonington “uncle” and “aunt” after that.
I described Deepdale and its surroundings in the previous book, so I will make no more than a passing reference to it here. Sufficient to say that the town nestled in a bend of the Argono River, a few miles above where that stream widened out into beautiful and picturesque Rainbow Lake. Then the river continued on its way again, increasing into quite a large body of water. On the river and lake plied many pleasure craft, and some built for trade, in which they competed with a railroad that connected with the main line to New York. In Rainbow Lake were a number of islands, the largest—Triangle—obviously so called, being quite a summer resort.
Our four girls lived near each other in fine residences, that of Mollie’s mother being on the bank of the river. Deepdale was a thriving community, in the midst of a fertile farming section.
The summer sun glinted in alternate shadows and brilliant patches on Grace Ford as she hurried out to her friends on the lawn, after receiving the message from her brother Will.
“What happened?” asked Mollie, for it was evident from the expression on the face of the approaching girl that something out of the ordinary had been the import of the message.
“Oh, it was Will. He——”
“Did he ‘fess up’ about the chocolates?” inquired Mollie.
“No, but he’s going to treat us to a three-pound box. I ’phoned down for them. They’ll be here soon, and you girls can enjoy them while I’m gone.”