Mrs. Mallow sank wearily into the first chair available and removed her hat and gloves.
“The trip seemed to tire me,” she declared. “I think it was listening to that magician that wore me out.”
“Why don’t you take a nap?” Doris suggested. “Kitty and I thought we might go for a walk, so we won’t be here to disturb you.”
“I believe I shall,” Mrs. Mallow said. “After luncheon I must try to engage a room for Marshall.”
After the girls had changed frocks and freshened up a bit, they set forth to view the city. Cloudy Cove was not large in population, but its location near the Bay of Thor brought great crowds of vacationers each summer. However, it was not toward the beach that the girls strolled, for Doris’s interest lay in the business section of the city. As they passed a massive building of white stone, she observed that it was the National Bank.
“Let’s go in!” she said impulsively to her chum. “I want to see the President just as soon as I can, about my Uncle John Trent’s affairs.”
The two girls entered the bank. Kitty hung back rather timidly, but Doris walked boldly to the window and asked for the President.
“Mr. Cooke does not see anyone without an appointment,” she was informed. “If you will state your business—”
“It is of a confidential nature,” Doris returned. “I must see Mr. Cooke!”
“He expects to be out of the city for the remainder of the week,” the cashier told her, “but I can make an appointment for you to see him at ten o’clock Monday morning.”
Doris thanked him and with Kitty left the building.
“It’s a long time to wait,” she fretted, “but I suppose it’s the best I can do. Oh, dear, I’m so impatient to learn about the Estate!”
“I just feel it in my bones that you’re going to get some money,” Kitty declared confidently.
“I wish I could feel it in mine!”
The girls walked aimlessly about the streets, gazing at the shop windows and taking an interest in the vacation crowd. Unexpectedly they became aware that someone was calling them by name. Turning abruptly about, Doris saw Silas Baker, who was on the verge of stepping into a sedan parked at the curbing.
“Well, well, so we meet again!” he hailed them. “I’m glad you rescued your umbrella after you left us,” Kitty said.
“My umbrella?” The old gentleman’s brow wrinkled, then he laughed. “To be sure! Just as the train was pulling out. How do you girls like Cloudy Cove by this time?”
“We haven’t seen much of it yet,” Doris confessed.
“How would you like to visit my camp on the cove? I’m on my way there now.”
“Oh, we’d love to!” Doris cried enthusiastically. “That is, if we can get back in time for luncheon. Mrs. Mallow will be expecting us.”
“It won’t take long. I’ll drive you right back.” He opened the car door and the girls crowded into the front seat beside him. As they motored along the boulevard, Mr. Baker pointed out interesting landmarks. In all truth, Doris and Kitty paid more attention to the road than they did to the scenery, for their companion’s driving was eccentric, to say the least. Twice, as a loud honking of horns sounded impatiently from the rear, they were called upon to remind him that a traffic light had changed from red to green.
Presently Mr. Baker turned the car into a private driveway, which led through a forest of dense timber to the edge of the cove. The girls gave a gasp of sheer delight as they caught their first glimpse of the deep, blue water and the glistening, white beach.
“It’s real quiet out here,” Mr. Baker said, as he turned off the motor, “but that’s why some folks like it. I own fifty acres along the waterfront.
Haven’t done much with it yet. Just put up a bathhouse and a few cabins. Next year I may fix the place up more.”
“I think it’s lovely as it is,” Doris declared.
The very quiet of it appealed to her, and she thought she had never before seen a more beautiful place. The beach was deserted, but far out across the water she could see a tiny fishing boat. A half dozen log cabins were scattered about the clearing and from three of them she noticed smoke curling upward.
“Are all of your cottages rented?” she inquired. “No, I haven’t advertised them,” Mr. Baker explained. “Don’t want just anyone, you know. Can’t have folks throwing tin cans on the beach and littering the place up. I rent only to a certain class of people.”
“Don’t you wish we had come here instead of taking rooms at The Mayfair?” Kitty asked wistfully.
“Yes, I do,” Doris agreed, “but I suppose it’s too late to change now. But say! Wouldn’t Dave and Marshmallow be crazy about this place!”
“Are there any fish in the water, Mr. Baker?” Kitty inquired.
“Any fish?” the old gentleman snorted. “It’s the best place in three counties!”
“This spot would be paradise for Marshall and Dave, then,” Kitty declared.
Doris had been doing some quick thinking. She knew that a room must be engaged for the boys before Friday and if what the hotel-keeper had said was true, it would be impossible to secure satisfactory accommodations at the town of Cloudy Cove. Dave and Marshmallow enjoyed “roughing it,” and camp life would suit them admirably. Since Mr. Baker already had mentioned that his charge for cabins was reasonable, the plan of establishing the two at the camp appealed to her.
“Would you care to rent one of your cabins to Dave and Marshall?” she inquired. “We’re expecting them Friday.”
“Well,” Mr. Baker hesitated, “if they’re friends of yours, I’ll take them, but I don’t want any noisy young scamps about. This is a quiet camp and—”
“Oh, you’ll like Dave and Marshmallow,” Doris laughed. “Just show them the cove and tell them about the fish and that’s the last you’ll hear of them.”
“Maybe you’d better pick but the cabin you want now. There’s a nice one fronting the beach that they might like.”
He led the way across the clearing, pausing on a knoll to point to a large maple tree.
“This marks the eastern boundary of my premises. That cottage you see through the trees doesn’t belong to me. You can have your pick of any of the others that aren’t occupied.”
It was on the tip of Doris’s tongue to ask who owned the cabin to the east of the camp, but already Mr. Baker had moved on down the path. The girls followed him to a quaint cottage overlooking the water. It was a four-room structure built entirely of unpainted logs. Chintz curtains hung at the windows and, as they stepped inside, they were delighted to see that the furniture was rustic. A large stone fireplace covered one side of the living room.
“Oh, it’s adorable!” Doris cried. “I’m sure Dave and Marshmallow would like it.”
Kitty had stepped to the door of one of the bedrooms and her quick eye had noted a suitcase under a bed.
“Why, someone appears to be living here!” she exclaimed. “This room is occupied.”
A sheepish expression passed over Mr. Baker’s face.
“I guess you can’t have this one after all,” he murmured. “I forgot that I rented it to a gentleman from New York.”
Hastily the girls retreated, for they had no desire to appear to be invading a stranger’s quarters.
“You can have