“George always called it Jewell creek,” Meta Hanley said. “He used to meet me here and we’d talk and plan what we’d do with the house after we were married. Then, on the day he’d promised to give me my ring, he never came. Jewell creek,” she repeated, looking at her ringless finger. “That isn’t its real name, of course, but the water sparkles like jewels, and it does run past the Jewell place. Actually it’s one of the forks of the Genessee. The Cowanesque heads the other side of this hill.”
Judy took Holly’s arm, her camera in her free hand. They were near the beaver dam, so near that Judy could see a mass of piled-up saplings cemented together with mud.
“The pond’s just beyond that obstruction. I’ll leave you here. Wait quietly on the bank. Keep yourselves hidden in the ferns, and don’t make a sound,” Meta directed the two girls, “and you may catch a glimpse of the beavers swimming in their pond.”
But Judy, on sudden impulse, had caught a glimpse of something else and snapped a picture.
CHAPTER VII
At the Beaver Dam
“What did you do that for?” Holly asked, puzzled. “There wasn’t anything there.”
“I thought there was, but maybe you’re right,” Judy admitted. “I do things on impulse. Afterwards I wonder myself why I do them. Did it seem to you that Meta Hanley left us rather abruptly?”
“Yes, she did,” Holly acknowledged. “Maybe telling us that sad story made her feel bad. It just proves what I said before. It’s bad luck to love anybody.”
“For her or for you?” Judy questioned, hoping to disprove her theory.