CHAPTER ELEVEN
TERRAPIN ISLAND
Kitty saw her father reading the evening paper as Brad brought her home about nine o’clock.
“Won’t you come in?” she asked, though she knew her voice betrayed her weariness.
“Not tonight. You’ve had a full day and better get some rest.”
“I am tired,” she admitted, but she felt a glow of happiness that he was so understanding.
“Guess your dad is sort of lonesome. He’ll want to hear all about what you’ve been doing. He wouldn’t like it, Kit, if he knew what chances you’ve been taking.”
“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “I’d better be careful what I say, or he may try to stop my Sherlock Holmes business.”
When she went into the living room her father glanced over the top of his paper. “Enjoy your trip to the beach?” he asked, still somewhat preoccupied.
“It was wonderful. Almost like old times.” She sat on a footstool near him, and took off the kerchief that had bound up her hair. All the girls had worn slacks and kerchiefs for the picnic instead of their Canteen uniforms.
“A boat’s been sunk offshore. The beach was full of wreckage.”