The Slipper Point Mystery | Page 9

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 all about who she was. What on earth was
she doing here - at "The Bluffs"? A number of them murmured some
indistinct rejoinder and one of them, in the background, audibly giggled.
Sally heard the giggle and flushed painfully. But Doris was superbly
indifferent to it all.
"Do you dance, Sally?" she inquired, and Sally stammered that she did
not.

"Then we 'll go down to the river and paddle about awhile," went on
Doris. "It's much nicer than stampeding about that hot parlor." The
Campbell-Hobart crowd melted away. "Come on, Sally!" said Doris,
and, linking arms with her new friend, she strolled down the steps to
the river, without alluding, by so much as a single syllable, to the
rudeness of that noisy, thoughtless group.
And in the heart of Sally Carter there sprang into being such an
absolute idolatry of adoration for this glorious new girl friend that she
was ready to lie down and die for her at a moment's notice. The last
barrier, the last doubt, was swept completely away. And, as they drifted
about in the fading after-glow, Sally remarked, apropos of nothing:
"If you like, we 'll go up to Slipper Point tomorrow, and - I 'll show you
- that secret!"

CHAPTER IV
ON SLIPPER POINT
IT would be exaggeration to say that Doris slept, all told, one hour
during the ensuing night. She napped at intervals, to be sure, but hour
after hour she tossed about in her bed, in the room next to her mother,
pulling out her watch every twenty minutes or so, and switching on the
electric light to ascertain the time. Never in all her life had a night
seemed so long. Would the morning ever come, and with it the
revelation of the strange secret Sally knew?
Like many girls of her age, and like many older folks too, if the truth
were known, Doris loved above all things, a mystery. Into her
well-ordered and regulated life there had never entered one or even the
suspicion of one. And since her own life was so devoid of this
fascination, she had gone about for several years, speculating in her
own imagination about the lives of others, and wondering if mystery
ever entered into their existences. But not until her meeting with little
Sally Carter, had there been even the faintest suggestion of such a thing.

And now, at last - ! She pulled out her watch and switched on her light
for the fortieth time. Only quarter to five. But through her windows she
could see the faint dawn breaking over the river, so she rose softly,
dressed, and sat down to watch the coming of day.
At nine o'clock she was pacing nervously up and down the beach. And
when old "45" at last grated on the sand, she hopped in with a glad cry,
kissed and hugged Genevieve, who was devoting her attention to her
thumb, in the stern seat, as usual, and sank down in the vacant
rowing-seat, remarking to Sally:
"Hello, dear! I'm awfully glad you 've come!" This remark may not
seem to express very adequately her inward state of excitement but she
had resolved not to let Sally see how tremendously anxious she was.
The trip to Slipper Point was a somewhat silent one. Neither of the girls
seemed inclined to conversation and, besides that, there was a stiff
head-wind blowing and the pulling was difficult. When they had
beached the boat, at length, on the golden sandbar of Slipper Point,
Doris only looked toward Sally and said:
"So you 're going to show me at last, dear?" But Sally hesitated a
moment.
"Doris," she began, "this is my secret - and Genevieve's - and I never
thought I'd tell any one about it. It's the only secret I ever had worth
anything, but I'm going to tell you, - well, because I - I think so much
of you. Will you solemnly promise - cross your heart - that you 'll never
tell any one?"
Doris gazed straight into Sally's somewhat troubled eyes. "I don't need
to 'cross