“What a shame!” cried Cora. “And all because there is some technical proof of ownership missing. I should think that when your family had undisputed possession for years it ought to be sufficient to establish your rights.”
“Yes, we never dreamed we could lose it,” Freda explained. “Mother and I have lived there in the Winter since father died, and we have rented it in Summer, as I said. Of course the Summer is the desirable time here. And we had some of the loveliest old furniture. But when we had to break up we sold most of it.”
“Look out! There’s a hole there,” Cora warned just in time, for in the heavy sand little rivulets were creeping from some rollers tossed in by a passing boat. The bay was dotted with many craft, and the picture it presented gave Cora keen delight, for it forecasted a merry Summer for the motor girls.
“We only have a little farther to go,” Freda said. “I hope old Denny has kept his word and stayed in. He is the queerest old fellow—you will be amused at him, I am sure. But he was always such a staunch friend of grandfather.”
“I am anxious to meet him,” rejoined Cora. “Somehow I feel we girls ought to get at the bottom of this. Wouldn’t it be fine if we could?”
“More than fine, it would be glorious!” Freda replied. “If we lose it all now, I will have to look for work. Not that I mind that,” she added, “but I intend to take a course in nursing. I have always longed to be a nurse.”
“And that would be a splendid profession for you,” Cora agreed. “I do hope you will not have to go to work in some office.”
“Oh, there’s Denny! Denny!” called Freda, leaving Cora without further ceremony, and hurrying ahead as fast as the soft sand would allow. “See, there he is! Just going out in his fishing boat.”
Cora ran after her, and soon they overtook the old fisherman, who was deaf. Freda didn’t mind getting her shoes wet in order to approach the water’s edge.
“Good morning, Denny,” she called, “come in here. We want to talk to you.”