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 the wind,
kept them in a state of nervous suspense. Then, just as Doris was dozing
off, she heard a low whimpering moan from the yard below.
“Wags!” she whispered to Kitty.
“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.