The Slipper Point Mystery | Page 5

a dandy drink of water from a
spring near the shore." Doris was flattered beyond words to be taken
further into the confidence of this strange new acquaintance, and
heartily assented. Around a bend of the river, they approached a point
of land projecting out several hundred feet into the tide, its end
terminating in a long, golden sandbar. Toward the shore, the land
gently ascended in a pretty slope, crowned with velvety pines and
cedars. The conformation of slope and trees gave the outjut of land a
curious shape.
"Do you know what I call this point?" questioned Sally. Doris shook
her head. "Well, you see what a queer shape it is when you look at it

from the side. I've named it 'Slipper Point.' Doesn't it look like a
slipper?"
"It certainly does," agreed Doris enthusiastically. "Why, you 're a
wonder at naming things, Sally." Her companion colored with pleasure,
and beached the boat sharply on the sandbar. The three got out, put the
anchor in the sand and clambered up the piny slope. At the top, the
view up and down the river was enchanting, and the three sat down on
the pine needles to regain their breath and rest. At length Sally
suggested that they find the spring, and she led the way down the
opposite side of the slope to a spot near the shore. Here, in a bower of
branches, almost hidden from sight, a sparkling spring trickled down
from a small cave of reddish clay, filled an old, moss-covered box, and
rambled on down the sand into the river. Sally unearthed an old china
cup from some hidden recess of her own, and Doris drank the most
delicious water she had ever tasted.
But while Sally was drinking and giving Genevieve a share, Doris
glanced at the little gold wrist-watch she wore.
"Gracious sakes!" she exclaimed. "It's nearly five o'clock and Mother 'll
begin to think I've tumbled into the river and drowned. She's always
sure I'm going to do that some time. We must hurry back."
"All right," said Sally. "Jump into the boat and I 'll have you home in a
jiffy." They raced back to the boat, clambered into their former places,
and were soon shooting down the river under the impetus of the tide
and Sally's muscular strokes. The candy was by now all consumed.
Genevieve cuddled down close to Doris, her thumb once more in her
mouth, and went peacefully to sleep. The two other girls talked at
intervals, but Sally was too busy pulling to waste much breath in
conversation.
"I 'll land you right at the hotel dock," she remarked, when at last they
had come within sight of it. "Don't worry about your canoe. I 'll bring
that up myself, right after supper, and walk back."
"Thanks," said Doris gratefully. "That 'll save me a lot of time." In

another moment Sally had beached the boat on the shore directly in
front of "The Bluffs," and Doris, gently disengaging the still sleeping
Genevieve, hopped ashore. "I 'll see you soon again, Sally," she said,
"but I've got to just scamper now, I'm so worried about Mother." She
raced away up the steps, breathless with fear lest her long absence had
unduly upset her invalid mother, and Sally again turned her boat out
into the tide.
Ê
After supper that evening, Doris sat out at the end of the hotel pier,
watching the gradual approach of sunset behind the island. Her mind
was still full of the afternoon's encounter, and she wondered vaguely
whether she should see more of the strange village child, so ignorant
about many things, so careless about her personal appearance, who
could yet quote such a wonderful poem as "The Ancient Mariner" in
appropriate places and seemed to be acquainted with some queer
mystery about the river. Presently she noticed a red canoe slipping into
sight around a bend, and in another moment recognized Sally in the
stern.
There was no Genevieve with her this time. And to Doris's wondering
eyes, the change in her appearance was quite amazing. No longer
barefooted, she was clothed in neat tan stockings and buttoned shoes.
Added to that, she boasted a pretty, well-fitting blue serge skirt and
dainty blouse. But the only jarring note was a large pink bow of
hideous hue, a patent imitation of the one Doris wore, balanced on her
beautiful bronze hair. She managed the canoe with practiced ease, and
waved her hand at Doris from afar.
"Here's your canoe!" she called, as Doris hurried down the long dock to
meet her on the shore. And as they met, Doris remarked:
"It's early yet. How would you like to paddle around a while? I 'll run in
and ask Mother if I may."