The Slipper Point Mystery | Page 8

of June, there came every year to the "Bluffs" a certain party of young folks, half a dozen or more in number, with their parents, to stay till the middle of July, when they usually left for the mountains. They were boys and girls of about Doris's age or a trifle older, rollicking, fun-loving, a little boisterous, perhaps, and on the go from morning till night. They spent their mornings at the ocean bathing-beach, their afternoons steaming up and down the river in the fastest motor-boat available, and their evenings dancing in the hotel parlor when they could find any one to play for them. Sally had known them by sight for several years, though never once, in all that time, had they so much as deigned to notice her existence.
"If Doris deserts me for them," she told herself, " then I 'll be mighty glad I never told her my secret. Oh, I do wonder what she 'll do when they come!"
And then they came. Sally knew of their arrival that evening, when they rioted down to the Landing to procure the fastest launch her father rented. And she waited, inwardly on tenterhooks of anxiety, for the developments of the coming days. But, to her complete surprise, nothing happened. Doris sought her company as usual, and for a day or two never even mentioned the presence of the newcomers. At last Sally could bear it no longer.
"How do you like the Campbells and Hobarts who are at your hotel now?" she inquired one morning.
"Why, they 're all right," said Doris indifferently, feathering her oars with the joy of a newly-acquired accomplishment.
"But you don't seem to go around with them," ventured Sally uncertainly.
"Oh, they tire me to death, they 're so rackety!" yawned Doris. "I like fun and laughing and joking and shouting as well as the next person - once in a while. But I can't stand it for steady diet. It's a morning, noon and night performance with them. They 've invited me to go with them a number of times, and I will go once in a while, so as not to seem unsociable, but much of it would bore me to death. By the way, Sally, Mother told me to ask you to come to dinner with us tonight, if you care to. She's very anxious to meet you, for I've told her such a lot about you. Do you think your mother will allow you to come?"
Sally turned absolutely scarlet with the shock of surprise and joy this totally unexpected invitation caused her.
"Why - yes - er - that is, I think so. Oh, I'm sure of it! But, Doris, do you really want me? I'm - well, I'm only Sally Carter, you know," she stammered.
"Why, of course I want you!" exclaimed Doris, opening her eyes wide with surprise. "I shouldn't have asked you if I had n't." And so it was settled. Sally was to come up that afternoon, for once without Genevieve, and have dinner at "The Bluffs" with the Craigs. She spent an agonized two hours making her toilet for the occasion, assisted by her anxious mother, who could scarcely fathom the reason for so unprecedented an invitation. When she was arrayed in the very best attire she owned (and a very creditable appearance she made, since she had adopted some of Doris's well-timed hints), her mother kissed her, bade her "mind how she used her knife and fork," and she set out for the hotel, joyful on one score, but thoroughly uncomfortable on many others.
But she forgot much of her agitation in the meeting with Mrs. Craig, a pale, lovely, golden-haired woman of the gentlest and most winning manner in the world. In five minutes she had put the shy, awkward village girl completely at her ease, and the three were soon conversing as unrestrainedly as if the mother of Doris was no more than their own age. But Sally could easily divine, from her weakness and pallor, how ill Mrs. Craig had been, and how far from strong she still was.
Dinner at their own cosy little table was by no means the ordeal Sally had expected, and when it was over Mrs. Craig retired to her room and Sally and Doris went out to sit for a while on the broad veranda. It was here that Doris passed the final test that Sally had set for her. There approached the sound of trooping footsteps and laughing voices, and in another moment, the entire Campbell-Hobart clan clattered by.
"Hell, Doris!" they greeted her. "Coming in to dance tonight?"
"I don't know," answered Doris. "Have you met my friend, Sally Carter?" And she made all the introductions with unconcerned, easy grace. The Campbell-Hobart faction stared. They knew Sally Carter perfectly well by sight, and