AN INTERESTING STORY
"The storm is getting worse every minute," Nancy Drew's companion
observed.
Nancy followed her to the barn door and looked out. The rain was now
coming down in torrents, and as the girls stood in the doorway a sudden
gust of cold wind blew a sheet of water into their faces.
"Oh, let's get back where it's dry," Nancy laughed. "This is terrible!"
"It's getting cold, too," her companion announced, with chattering
teeth. "Why not come into the house with me? It's far more comfortable
there. And unless I'm mistaken, this storm will continue for an hour or
so."
"I don't like to trouble you----"
"Oh, it's no trouble at all. Grace will never forgive me if I don't
bring you inside." She turned to Nancy with an apologetic smile, "I
guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Allie--Allie Horner."
"And I am Nancy Drew."
"Not the daughter of Carson Drew, the noted lawyer?"
"Yes," Nancy admitted, in surprise. "Do you know my father?"
"Oh, no. But I guess everyone has heard of him." Allie Horner began to
take off the raincoat which she wore. "Here, take this. And I'll find
you a pair of rubber boots."
"I don't want to take your raincoat," Nancy protested. "What will you
wear?"
"Oh, I have an old coat hanging here on a nail. I'll use that. Anyway,
the rain won't hurt my dress."
Under protest, Nancy donned the raincoat and put on a pair of rubber
boots which were several sizes too large for her. She made such a
grotesque picture that the two girls could not help but laugh. Then
they closed the barn doors.
"Now!" Allie directed. "Let's make a dash for it!"
Hand in hand they splashed through the mud toward the farmhouse. As
they ran, a vivid flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the sky
and caused the girls to cringe. The rain pelted down steadily, and the
atmosphere was much colder than it had been ten minutes before.
"If it gets any colder we'll have hail," Allie chattered, as the two
girls reached the shelter of the porch.
Dropping their muddy boots outside, Allie flung open the door, and they
entered a warm kitchen.
As the door closed behind them, an older girl who was bending over the
kitchen range turned toward them in surprise.
"Grace, I've brought you a visitor," Allie said quickly. "Miss Drew, I
want you to meet my sister. She's the mainstay of our little family."
Grace Horner cordially acknowledged the introduction and greeted Nancy
with a warm smile. She was tall and slender, as was her sister, with
dark hair and thoughtful brown eyes. Nancy judged that she was at least
four years older than Allie. Her face was rather serious, and it was
evident that responsibility had fallen upon her shoulders at an early
age.
Nancy was at once attracted to both Grace and Allie, and responded to
their cordial welcome.
"It's nice of you to take me in this way," she told them.
"Mercy! It's a pleasure for us," Grace assured her. "We don't see a
girl of our own age once in a month unless we go to Masonville, and our
visits there aren't very frequent, Miss Drew."
"Oh, please call me by my first name," Nancy begged. "Everyone does."
The three girls were soon laughing and talking together as though they
had always been friends. Nancy knew that she was going to like the
Horner girls, and it was evident they were delighted with her.
Presently, Grace deftly removed a cake from the oven and set it on the
table to cool.
"Let's go into the living room," she suggested. "My cake is done, so I
don't need to watch it. I'll give you a piece before you go, Nancy."
"And Grace's cakes are the real thing," Allie declared. "I'm not much
of a cook myself. I'd rather be outdoors."
"We don't wish you any bad luck, Nancy," Grace laughed as she led Nancy
into the next room. "But Allie and I don't care how long it storms!"
"Neither do I, so long as I get home before dark," Nancy replied.
Although the living room was warm and comfortable, it was nearly bare
of furniture. The floors had been painted and were scantily covered
with handmade rag rugs. With the exception of an old-fashioned divan,
an inexpensive table, a few straight-back chairs, and an old wood stove
which furnished heat, there was little in the room. However, dainty
white curtains covered the windows, and Nancy realized that although
the Horner girls were poor they had tried hard to make their home
attractive.
"Surely, you two girls don't live here alone, do you?" Nancy inquired.
Allie nodded.
"Grace and I have been living here ever since father died. That was two
years ago. Mother passed away just before that," the girl added with a
slight catch in her voice.
"But how do you manage? It must be dreadfully hard for two girls to run
a farm by themselves," said Nancy, in wonder.
"Our farm isn't very large now," Grace said quietly. "We have only a
few acres."
"I know you wonder how we live, but are too polite to ask," Allie broke
in. "Grace helps a dressmaker at Masonville whenever she can get work.
She makes all our clothes, too. And I raise chickens."
"Chickens?" Nancy asked, in surprise. "Can you make much at that?"
"Well, it all depends. This year the market hasn't been so high as
usual, and the price of eggs has dropped, too. But I enjoy the work,
and I could make it pay if only I could afford to start a flock of
white leghorns."
"Allie is a regular outdoor girl," Grace explained, with a smile.
"We divide our work. I attend to the house, but she would rather be
outside."
"We get along very nicely in the summer," Allie went on. "We raise
vegetables and have enough for our own use. But in the winter it's
hard. I don't know how we'll manage this year."
"We'll find a way, Allie," Grace told her, with a brave smile. "We
always have."
She arose from her chair and turned to Nancy.
"I'm sure you're not interested in our misfortunes. It's true that
we're poor, but we can still offer a guest a cup of tea. Excuse me
while I make it."
It was on the tip of Nancy's tongue to protest, but she checked the
words just in time. She knew that Allie and Grace were proud and that
to refuse their hospitality would hurt their feelings.
"I wish I could help them," Nancy thought. "But if I offer to pay for
the tea they will be offended. Perhaps later on I can engage Grace to
make a dress for me."
In a few minutes Grace returned to the living room bearing a tray
which had been covered with a clean white napkin. She poured the tea
and served the cake with as much poise as though she were gracing an
elegant drawing room.
"I never tasted more delicious cake in all my life," Nancy said warmly.
The three girls chattered over the tea cups and watched the rain beat
against the windows. Presently, as Nancy noticed an unusual picture on
the wall, she commented on its beauty.
"Uncle Josiah gave it to us," Allie told her. "If he were only alive
now, things would be different."
At the mention of the name, Nancy started. Could it be that Allie
referred to Josiah Crowley? It was very unlikely, she decided, yet
only the week before her father had told her that there were two girls
living on the River Road who should have figured in the will. The
relationship would be worth investigating, Nancy told herself.
"Then your uncle is dead?" she inquired sympathetically.
"Josiah Crowley wasn't really our uncle," Grace replied. "But we loved
him as much as though he were a relative." Her voice broke and for a
moment she could not go on. "He lived next door to us--that was when
mother and father were alive. All of our misfortunes seemed to come at
once."
"He was the dearest man you ever saw," Allie added, taking up the
story. "Some people thought him queer, but you never minded his
peculiar ways after you knew him. He was so good and kind to us. We
were neighbors for years--until the Tophams induced him to live with
them. After that, everything was changed."
"But he never liked it with the Tophams," Grace declared. "They weren't
kind to him, and he used to sneak off to visit us. Didn't he, Allie?"
"Yes, he often said that we seemed like his own children. He brought
us so many nice gifts. We loved him for himself and not his money, but
after our parents died he hinted that he intended to see to it that we
never came to want. I remember the very last day we ever saw him alive,
he told us that he intended to mention us in the will. 'I have planned
a big surprise for you girls. You'll see it in my will.' Those were his
very words."
"And then the Tophams got everything," Grace said somewhat bitterly.
"It isn't that we were expecting any of the money, but it does seem
unfair that the entire fortune should go to them. They never cared a
snap of their fingers for Uncle Josiah, and I don't believe he intended
to leave his money to them."
"Perhaps you were mentioned in the will they say can't be found," Nancy
suggested.
Grace and Allie exchanged significant glances and gravely nodded.
"That's just what we think," Allie announced.
"Can't something be done about it? It seems only fair that you should
have your inheritance."
"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," Grace said doubtfully. "You
see, although we are certain a will was made in our favor, we have no
actual proof. We haven't enough money to fight the case."
"The Tophams ought to do something for you girls."
"The Tophams?" Allie laughed scornfully. "They wouldn't give us a cent."
For some time Allie and Grace Horner talked of Josiah Crowley and his
queer ways. To Nancy it was evident that the girls had loved the old
man a great deal.
Presently, as the rain ceased and the sun threatened to break through
the clouds, Nancy arose to leave.
"Your story has interested me a great deal," she assured the Horner
girls. "It's possible my father can do something to help you--he is a
lawyer you know."
"Oh, we weren't asking for help!" Grace interposed quickly. "I don't
know why we happened to tell you so much."
"I'm glad that you did, and if I can I want to help you. If my father
asks you to come to his office in River Heights will you do it?"
"Why, yes, I suppose so," Grace admitted slowly. "But we have told you
about everything we know concerning the will."
"My father is a wonder at unearthing hidden facts," Nancy declared.
"It's kind of you to tell your father about our case," Allie broke in.
"We'd be so grateful if something could be done. We don't want a cent
that doesn't belong to us, but it does seem as though we should have
received a small inheritance."
"Don't build up your hopes until after I've talked with my father,"
Nancy advised them as she turned toward the door. "If anything can be
done I promise I'll let you know."