“Maybe he’ll stop,” her chum suggested.
But Wags did not stop. He continued to whimper until the girls were afraid he would disturb the entire household.
“Poor thing!” Doris sympathized. “He’s out there all alone in a strange place. I’ll bet he’s lonesome.”
At last, unable to bear it any longer, she slipped out of bed and began to dress.
“What are you going to do?” Kitty whispered.
“I’m going to bring him up here for the night.”
“Cora will just about kill you, if she catches you!”
“I’ll sneak down so quietly no one will hear me.”
“I don’t like to stay here alone while you’re gone, Dory. It’s too scarey.”
“Then come along.”
“Ugh! It’s too far.”
Doris had finished dressing and now, without making a light, she moved cautiously toward the door.
“Don’t be gone long,” Kitty pleaded in a whisper. “If Wags lets out a yelp while you’re bringing him upstairs, we’re sunk!”
Quietly opening the door, Doris stood and listened. The old mansion was quiet save for the whistling of the wind and the rattling of doors and windows. Hesitating a moment, she noiselessly stole down the hallway. She was not afraid of being heard for she knew Azalea and Iris had rooms in the other wing.
At the head of the stairway she halted in astonishment. Below her she caught the glimmer of an oil lamp. To her further amazement she saw two men sitting at the table and instantly recognized them as Ronald Trent and Henry Sully!
Doris’s first impulse was to retreat. Then, realizing that she was standing in the dark and could not be seen, although she could plainly see what the others were about, she was tempted to remain. Instinctively, she had sensed that all was not as it should be. She distinctly remembered hearing Ronald Trent leave the house before the Misses Gates had retired. Why, then, had Henry Sully admitted him again and so quietly that no one had been the wiser?
She listened intently so as not to miss a word the men were saying.
“Any mail today, Hank?” she heard Ronald Trent mutter.
“No, but we’ll git something soon, I hope,” Henry answered so low that Doris scarcely caught the words. “Takes a while to git mail from the oil fields, I reckon.”
“Wish things would start breaking our way for a change,” Ronald said. “First thing we know that smart-looking Force kid will throw a wrench into the works and ruin our plans. I need money bad, too.”
“You ain’t the only one.”
“Everybody does,” growled Trent softly.
“I can’t stand this outfit much longer,” mumbled Henry dejectedly.
“How’s the crowd in town treating you?” inquired Trent, a bit maliciously. “The town officials haven’t decided on a clean-up week, have they?”
“Naw, that’s all right. But this law-abidin’ flock make me tired. Too many females pokin’ around—just too many,” muttered Henry disgustedly, taking out his watch, and winding the stem thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side in an attitude of alertness. The hour was growing late.
Doris shrank back, but there was no need. They were entirely unaware of her nearness.
Ronald Trent laughed suggestively. This made Doris’s cheeks burn with embarrassment as he said, “Gee, that bunch of flowers smell good to me! I love the ladies, especially the pretty girlies, Henry. I’m not so hard to be friends with,” the egotist mused. “I’m a swell dresser, too, everything the dames like.”
Henry envied him his position with the Misses Gates, it was plain to be seen, as he accepted the statement with a nod of approval.
There was a pause as Ronald Trent took out a wallet and looked over its contents.
Doris waited in the dark hallway, unable to see the contents.
“The old dames are shutting down a bit,” Ronald went on. “I had to play up to ’em tonight and got only two hundred at that.”
“Too bad the old gals got that letter off to the red-head. That was one you missed, Trent.”
This reference to her made Doris decide to creep a step or two nearer. She had heard enough to convince her that Henry and Ronald were conspiring against Azalea and Iris, the two trusting, flower-like ladies!
She strained forward to catch more of the conversation.
CHAPTER X
Memories
However, Doris was to learn no more that night, for as she moved softly down the stairs the two men pushed back their chairs.
“You’d better be gettin’ out of here before those old gals find out what we’re doing,” he warned. “I’ll let you out the back way.”
They moved on to the kitchen and Doris, made bold by her knowledge of the underhanded scheme, came down into the living room. She heard the back door close as Ronald Trent hurriedly departed. A moment later, as the gate creaked, Wags gave another savage yelp.
Not until she heard Henry starting up the back stairs to his own quarters, did Doris dare venture to the door. Waiting until everything was still again, she quietly let herself out of doors.
Wags whimpered joyfully as she stooped down to unfasten him, and lifted up his paws. Doris picked him up, and holding him close, stole back into the house. She closed and locked the door behind her and listened. The coast seemed clear.
“Don’t you dare bark!” she whispered to Wags.
Tiptoeing up the stairway, she anxiously wondered if she could reach her room without being discovered.
“Azalea and Iris are probably asleep by this time,” she thought.
In this supposition she was not correct. The Misses Gates were at that moment lying wide awake in their adjoining rooms in the left wing, recalling vivid memories of their girlhood when each hoped to be the bride of the handsome John Trent.
Only a few close friends had understood why Doris’s uncle had gone away without marrying either of the twins, for by turns he had appeared in love with each of them. Some people had jokingly remarked that he could not tell them apart and that this was his reason for giving them up. At any rate, he had never been able to choose between them and had gone away, leaving heart-breaks behind. For Azalea and Iris the locked gates at the front entrance to the mansion were symbolic of a past which could never be forgotten.
With the passing of the years, the Misses Gates clung tightly to their memories, and the appearance of John Trent’s son had only served to freshen them. Perhaps in Ronald Trent they saw their lover of old. At any rate, they doted upon him and were flattered by his extravagant compliments. Believing that he was indeed the son of John Trent, they could not see his cheapness or his crude devices for gaining their favor. They regarded him indulgently, as a mother might her son.
Shut away from the world by their own wishes, Azalea and Iris lived only for their dreams. Wickedness was to them nebulous and unreal. They had trusted Ronald Trent because it was in their nature to trust.
As Doris stole quietly up the stairway with Wags snuggled in her arms, her thoughts were bitter. What right had Ronald Trent to ingratiate himself with Azalea and Iris, only to trick them? Obviously, his motive was money.
“He won’t get away with anything if I can help it!” she told herself.
As if to punctuate the thought, she unthinkingly gave Wags a tiny squeeze. He promptly yelped. Alarmed, Doris stopped and listened, but she could hear no one moving in the house. Quieting Wags, she continued