Doris could not trust herself to reply. She glanced toward Kitty and saw the puzzled look in her eyes. What must her chum think!
“That man my cousin!” she thought dismally. “Oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t found it out.”
“Well, we had a heavy shower, girlies,” boomed the new arrival as he adjusted his glaring tie carefully, “but I found a chummy roadhouse with a big welcome during the heaviest thunder. I certainly enjoy good company.” He smacked his lips thoughtfully.
Kitty carefully kept her eyes turned away from her embarrassed chum. This was an unexpected turn to events. She was more surprised and worried at meeting this flashy stranger than she cared to have the group know. Reared in a refined and cultured environment, she feared her family might call her away at once, if they should become aware of the fact that such a man as this one were to spend any time in the company of the girls. She pictured the faculty at Barry Manor as being highly shocked and amazed should anybody tell them that these two pupils were spending their vacation in a place where they were obliged to associate with a person of the type of Ronald Trent. Would she have to desert her friend and leave for home on account of the sudden appearance of this relative of Doris?
Kitty pondered this matter seriously in her mind.
Doris was equally worried in her own way.
CHAPTER IX
A Conversation Overheard
The Misses Gates escorted Ronald Trent to the living room, forgetting in their excitement that supper had not been finished. Doris and Kitty were too polite to mention that they had not had their dessert.
“You girlies get prettier every day,” the man gushed, playfully straightening Iris’s lace collar and slyly giving Azalea’s hand a squeeze.
Iris giggled, and her sister cast down her eyes in confusion. Ronald Trent winked at Doris and Kitty as much as to say: “How easy they fall!”
Iris and Azalea, unaware that they were appearing in a slightly ridiculous light, continued to beam and to blush, listening intently to every word Ronald Trent said, and laughing at everything which might be remotely interpreted as a joke. Doris was completely disgusted at the way the man was acting, and when he tried to cajole her into a more friendly attitude, she could not hide her indifference. Azalea and Iris did not notice how quiet she was, but Ronald Trent was aware of her attitude and frowned slightly.
“What’s the matter, girlie?” he teased.
“Nothing,” Doris returned quietly.
She felt that if he continued to plague her she surely would disgrace herself by saying something which would offend the Gates sisters. How could they like such a man? He was cheap and coarse and obviously insincere.
“Poor things,” she told herself. “They haven’t had much attention from men and it flatters them.”
The tension was somewhat relieved when Iris asked Kitty if she could sing or play the piano.
“I’m not in the least musical,” Kitty returned, “but Doris sings beautifully.”
Upon being urged to entertain the group, Doris obediently went to the piano. After looking over the music she selected a familiar piece, struck a few chords, and began to sing. A hush fell over the group, and even Ronald Trent, who was talking to Iris, became quiet.
“Lovely,” Azalea murmured when she had finished. “You have a wonderful voice.”
“Pretty keen,” Ronald Trent agreed, “but can’t you sing something livelier? I don’t like them church hymns.”
“You call those songs church hymns?” Doris asked with an amused smile. “Really, if you want popular music, I can’t oblige you. My teacher permits me to sing only classical.”
After she had left the piano, Ronald Trent launched into a lengthy tale concerning his recent exploits in South America. In many particulars the story did not hang together, and Doris and Kitty were bored. Iris and Azalea were flattering listeners and, whenever he showed signs of pausing, urged him on with interested questions.
As Doris listened, doubts began to form in her mind. It seemed incomprehensible that this boasting, crude stranger could really be her cousin. There must be a mistake, she told herself. Ronald Trent was not a relative; of that she felt certain.
“Well, girlies, isn’t it about time you trundled off to your little beds?” he asked, looking insinuatingly at Doris and Kitty.
“I imagine you girls are tired,” Azalea murmured. “If you like, I can have Cora show you to your room.”
“Oh, we’re not sleepy yet,” Kitty said mischievously.
Ronald Trent fairly glared at her.
“Run along now,” he said lightly, but with a look which warned the girls he expected to be obeyed. “I have some business to talk over with Iris and Azalea.”
Iris rang for Cora, and the girls reluctantly followed her upstairs through a long hall and down a number of steps into a wing which branched off to the right. Cora showed them their room and left them alone.
“Looks as if we’re to be off in this wing all by ourselves,” Kitty said uneasily. “This place is too spooky to suit me.”
The room was large and austere with long mirrors and an old-fashioned four-poster bed and dresser. Several rag rugs were scattered over the bare floor. Double windows looked down over the side veranda and the branches of a sprawling maple tree brushed against the panes.
As a precautionary measure Kitty looked under the bed and peeped into the closet.
“Wasn’t that man terrible?” Doris said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “And the way he sent us to bed just as though we were infants! Do you think he really could be a cousin of mine?”
“I don’t see how he could be,” Kitty comforted. “He doesn’t look or act like any of your relatives that I ever saw.”
“Well, I hope not! Wonder what he wants of Iris and Azalea?”
“Something he didn’t want us to hear, that’s certain. Say, where is he from, anyway?”
“Some place about four hundred miles from here—Cloudy Cove, I think he said.”
“And he drives that far every few days to see Azalea and Iris? It looks fishy to me.”
“I think so, too,” Doris agreed. “The Misses Gates are lovely ladies—far too good for that loud creature—but at the same time they’re scarcely the type a man would drive four hundred miles to see.”
“He doesn’t care a whit about them. You can tell that.”
As they undressed, the girls continued to discuss Ronald Trent and to make disparaging remarks. Then Kitty jumped into bed and Doris put out the light. Snuggling down into the covers, they shivered a bit as the wind rattled the window pane. They could almost imagine that in the pitch dark room someone was slowly creeping toward them.
“I’d hate to stay here very long,” Kitty whispered. “Folks are so funny. Even Henry and Cora.”
“I’m eager to find out why they sent for me,” Doris whispered in return. “It looks to me as though there’s something strange going on here.”
Save for the moaning of the wind, the old house was quiet, and presently the girls heard the front door slam shut.
“That was my illustrious cousin departing,” Doris murmured.
A few minutes later they heard two doors close farther down the hall and knew that Azalea and Iris had retired.
The girls closed their eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the brushing of the branches against the windows, and the weird sounds made by