Strawberry Acres | Page 7

for her to depend upon his support, but she appreciated
it when occasionally the real brothers failed to remember how lonely
the young sister was, with no mother at hand to love or advise her. All
but Bob. He, the youngest of the family, was like a faithful dog, always
beside her when the others jeered or reproached, and always her
strongest, most faithful, ally.
"The walking is better today," Sally called out, as they started. Max,
true to his cause, promptly denied the truth of this statement. Josephine
came to the rescue.
"Who cares what the walking is like, on an April day like this?" she
challenged Max. "Isn't the air glorious? And won't it be lovely, across
the bridge and along the river, as soon as the leaves are out?"
Max was escorting Josephine, and as they turned the bend in the road
he pointed out to her the boundary lines of the estate. She asked him
about the values of land in this neighbourhood and the possibilities of
making such a place profitable.
"You sound like a business woman," was his comment. "Thinking of
investing out here? You ought to get Sally to talk the place up to you.
She estimates that by raising violets on the whole forty-two acres and
selling them to the florists in town we can be millionaires the first
year."
"Why not, at a dollar a bunch?" laughed Josephine. "And think how
picturesque your property will look, all a soft purple in the sunshine!"
"Won't it!" agreed Max. "There, that's the house. I suppose you're
prepared to fall into ecstasies with Sally on the door-step, and dance a
reel with her down the hall."
"Of course I am. But what I really came for is the locked door."

"The door! I believe Sally's forgotten the subject of her dreams. We
haven't a tool, any more than we had a week ago."
"Haven't we though?" shouted Bob, from the rear. He began to extract
various implements from his pockets on the spot. Sally herself waved
her shopping-bag. Jarvis Burnside pulled off his glove and began to
search his own pockets.
"I think we'll effect an entrance," he declared, and produced a
curious-looking skeleton key. "This will open any ordinary lock."
Josephine said everything Sally could have hoped for about the exterior
of the house, and a few things more. It did seem a little less forlorn than
before, the effect, perhaps, of the April sunshine, which lighted its red
brick walls into warm and cheerful hues. Jarvis, within the door,
removed his goggles and blinked approvingly at the fine colonial
features of the wood-work, the lines of the stairway, and the
proportions of the fireplace.
"Anybody can see those two are loaded," complained Alec in Max's ear,
as they brought up the rear of the procession. "Trust Jarve Burnside to
back up Sally every time, and Josephine to join 'em. It's all right
enough for him to talk about restoration. He could do it by putting his
hand into his pocket. Between 'em they'll get Sally completely off her
head."
"There's no harm in looking the thing over," Max replied, absently, but
Alec continued to rail. Bob turned and frowned at him as meaningly as
Bob's round and sunny face could frown. Why must Alec follow Max's
lead? he thought. One could gain one's point quite as readily and much
more agreeably by being amiable. At least, this was Bob's philosophy.
"The door, Sally, the door!" urged Josephine, as the party finished the
survey of the lower floor. "I can't take an interest in any more open
rooms while I know there's a closed one waiting. Do lead the way up
that impressive staircase and take us straight to the place of mystery!"
"Sally's still young enough to want to save the plums in the cake till the

last," said Jarvis, as they went up. "Well, well, this stairway is certainly
a quaint one--risers about five inches, aren't they, Max? Treads fourteen,
at least. Fine for infants and invalids. And comfortable for sitting out
dances, Sally!"
"But not so interesting as the five steep steps we are coming to," and
Sally led the way down the hall to the side passage, from the end of
which rose the little flight which approached the locked door. "Here we
are. Now who'll let us in?"
It took the combined efforts of Jarvis and Max, working with one tool
after another, to effect an entrance. Clearly this was not an ordinary
closet lock which barred the way. But at last, with a vigorous wrench,
Jarvis held the yielding door under his hand. From the top step he
waved his free arm at the company, standing below.
"One last guess apiece," he demanded of them, "before you look."
"Old