“Sea Lamb,” scoffed the old sailors who brought their nets in from the ocean at the road’s turn.
“Why didn’t they call it ‘the kid,’ and be done with it,” Thom Merrill wanted to know. Thom had sold all his land to the enterprising development company, and now he had nothing else to do but criticize their choice of name for the new colony.
“But you’re all wrong,” declared Mary-Louise Trainor, who was the “bookiest” woman in the county. “We chose the name because it literally means that the sea fondles, loves, yes if you like——” she flung this defiantly into Thom Merrill’s red face—“the sea pets the land at this pretty little point, and Sea Cosset is a perfectly ideal name.”
“Sure is,” agreed Thom, chuckling so audibly that Mary-Louise turned away in evident disgust at that memorable meeting held three years ago last spring. Then Sea Cosset was cut away from the surrounding territory by its fancy name, a number of pretty bungalows, the land agents’ promise to build more “of any design desired as fast as they would be applied for,” not to mention all the other well-advertised improvements of a new summer place as compared with its well-seasoned, comfortable old town of Landing.
Strange that all of this would have anything to do with Cara Burke’s house party. But it had, for Barbara Hale and her beloved “Dads,” the doctor, were this very day admitting they should have sold their land, or some of it, to that company that developed Sea Cosset.
“Then, my dear Babs,” said father, regretfully, “you might have afforded proper things for your party.”
“But I don’t need them, really, Dads; I’ve got lots of clothes,” protested the daughter. “It’s just that these different affairs require different things.”
Which explanation meant not a thing, in the way of an explanation, for it plainly stated that Barbara Hale did not have things ready for a house party.
On the floor of her quaintly old-fashioned bedroom, Barbara was now packing her suit-case. And only the suit-case that lay there helplessly could have seen or understood the expression on her face, for the bag had more than once witnessed that same look as Barbara leaned over, putting things in and taking them out, anxiously.
“She’s worried but she’s brave,” would have been the verdict could the leather case have spoken.