"That's all right," he invited. "Come right in. It's only a little legal tangle I'm trying to straighten out," for Mr. Ford was a well-known lawyer.
"Anything we can help you with?" asked Betty, with a smile.
"I'm afraid not," he answered, laughing. "I've just been appointed receiver of a bankrupt lumber camp up in the North Woods, and I've got to arrange for some one to stay there during the winter to see that it isn't disturbed. It comes just at the wrong time, too. I'm so busy I don't know how I can spare the time to go up there and straighten things out. Where are you going, Grace?"
"Over to see poor Amy Stonington. It's too bad! She heard something more about her mystery to-day, Daddy, and she nearly skated into an airhole—she was so upset. Isn't it horrid?"
"Yes, it is too bad about Amy," said Mr. Ford, for he knew the story, as did many in Deepdale. "She ought to get out and away from the influences around here. Stonington ought to take her away."
He was musing for a moment. Then a queer expression came over his face.
"Girls!" he cried. "I think I have something that will just fill the bill!"
"Oh, Papa!" cried Grace, clapping her hands. "When you talk that way I know something is going to happen!"
"Well, we'll see," he answered. "As I understand it, the High School won't open until late this winter, on account of the repairs not being finished."
"That's right, Daddy!" cried Grace. "Not until after Christmas. Go on!"