A DISCOURAGING DAY
After leaving her father's office, Nancy Drew went directly home.
Quickly backing her roadster from the garage, she set off down the
River Road in the direction of the old farmhouse where the Horner girls
lived.
Before leaving the main highway, Nancy glanced anxiously at the sky and
was relieved that no clouds were visible.
"After my last experience, I don't intend to get caught in another
storm," she admonished herself.
The recent rain had made the roads rough, and Nancy bumped about in the
roadster rather uncomfortably. At last, however, she came within sight
of the farmhouse, and as she viewed it from a distance noticed that it
was even older and more run-down than she had thought.
The house was large and rambling, but apparently it had not been
painted in years. Shingles were falling from the roof, and the porches
sagged. As Nancy's eyes traveled to the old barn, she wondered how it
had managed to survive the recent storm.
"If Allie and Grace Horner only had money, they could make the place
attractive," she thought as she drove through the open gate.
Squawking chickens fled before her as she stopped the roadster in the
barnyard and switched off the engine. Springing lightly from the car,
she ran up the walk toward the house. She paused at the kitchen door
and rapped.
Receiving no response, she went around to the front of the house and
knocked on another door. There was no answer. Nor did a tour of the
yard reveal either of the Horner girls.
Disappointment took possession of Nancy. She had driven nearly fifteen
miles only to find no one at home.
"I'm defeated at every turn," she thought disconsolately, as she slowly
walked back to the roadster. "It's certainly discouraging."
"Hello, there!" a voice called. "Were you looking for us?"
The shouted greeting reached Nancy as she prepared to step into the
roadster. One foot on the running board, she turned her head and saw
the Horner girls hurrying toward her from the direction of the barn.
Allie did not wait for her sister to open the barnyard gate, but,
swinging easily over it, ran to meet Nancy.
"We saw you just as you were leaving the house," she cried
enthusiastically. "We wouldn't have missed you for anything."
"We were picking berries in the woods," Grace explained, as she hurried
up, slightly out of breath. Proudly she displayed a tin pail which was
filled nearly to the brim with raspberries.
"But look at our arms!" and Allie laughed ruefully as she glanced down
at the ugly scratches which had been caused by brambles and sharp
thorns.
"You must come into the house and have a dish of berries, Nancy," Grace
urged hospitably. "They're good with sugar and cream."
"If you don't have them too often," Allie added.
"I can stop but a minute," Nancy declared, as the three entered the
house. "I came to talk about the will."
"Oh, then you have good news for us?" Allie asked hopefully. "Are we
really going to get some of the money?"
"I don't know yet," Nancy was forced to admit. "So far I haven't been
able to learn a thing about the missing will."
Allie's face fell, but she tried to hide her disappointment.
"We need the money so badly," she said, with an apologetic smile.
"Grace hasn't had a new dress in three years. She makes all of our
clothing out of old things we happen to have in the house. If our luck
doesn't change soon I'm afraid we'll be mistaken for rag pickers."
"We really didn't expect much of Uncle Josiah's money," Grace broke
in quickly, lest Nancy misinterpret her sister's remarks. "We weren't
related, you know."
"Well, you can hardly say the Tophams were, for that matter," Allie
declared. "They were third or fourth cousins."
"We can get along without the money," Grace said quietly. "We manage
very well when I have plenty of work. We're a little discouraged right
now because dressmaking has fallen off. It's a slack season. I guess
people would rather go to the store and buy a dress readymade."
"I wouldn't," Nancy declared impulsively. "Grace, I'd like to engage
you to make me a dress. Will you do it? I'll pay you well."
Tears of joy came into Grace's eyes.
"Will I? Oh, you don't know how grateful I am for the work. I haven't
had anything to do for nearly three months. I don't mind poverty so
much for myself, but for Allie--" her voice broke. "I promised mother
I'd look after her."
Allie sprang from her chair and rushed to her sister. She flung her
arms affectionately about her.
"Oh, Grace, I shouldn't have said what I did about needing money. I
didn't mean it! Truly, I didn't."
"But it's the truth."
"We'll get along, Grace. If only my chicken money came in faster! Why
can't a hen lay more than one egg a day?"
Grace smiled faintly at Allie's feeble attempt at a joke, and, to break
an awkward silence, Nancy took up the conversation.
"I'll bring the dress material with me the next time I come this way."
She did not need a new dress, but she realized that there was no other
way to help the Horner girls, for they were too proud to accept money.
"And now I want to ask you a few more questions about Josiah Crowley,"
Nancy told them. "Do you know whether he ever visited other relatives
besides the Tophams?"
"Oh, yes," Allie returned promptly. "He was only distantly related to
the Tophams, you know. They were third cousins I believe. He had a
number of other relatives whom he frequently visited."
"Before he went to live with the Tophams, they took turns keeping him,"
Grace informed her visitor.
"Can you tell me the names of these relatives?"
"Let me see," Grace lost herself in thought. "There are two cousins
living in Masonville."
"Matilda and Edna Turner," Allie prompted her. "They're regular old
maids, but awfully nice. They were wonderful to Uncle Josiah when he
was alive."
"And there were two nephews," Grace went on. "William and Fred Mathews.
They have a farm on this same River Road. Everyone thought they would
get something."
"How far do they live from here?" Nancy inquired.
"Oh, not more than five miles. You could drive there in a few minutes.
It's on the way to Masonville."
"Then I'll be able to make the two calls on the same trip," Nancy
announced, as she arose to depart. "I must hurry along now or it will
be too late for me to stop there this afternoon. I am hoping that by
talking with the relatives I may learn something which will help us to
trace the missing will."
"I'm afraid there's not much chance we'll ever get anything," Grace
said rather morosely. "The Tophams will never let the money slip out
of their hands."
"If we find the will, they won't be able to keep the money," Nancy
declared. "Father will see to it that you girls get your just due."
"Oh, Grace, we forgot to tell Nancy about Abigail Rowen," Allie
reminded her sister. "She'd be apt to know more about the will than
anyone else."
"That's right! You really should call on her, Nancy. She took care of
Uncle Josiah one time when he was sick, and he thought the world of
her. He often declared he intended to leave her something."
"Even a few hundred dollars would have meant so much to her," Allie
added. "Abigail is old and feeble now. She must be more than seventy
years of age, and there's no one to look after her."
"Where shall I find her?" Nancy asked quickly.
"She lives over on the West Lake Road," Grace responded. "It's a good
many miles from here. You could make inquiry at some of the farmhouses
along the road."
"I won't have time to go there to-day, but I'll surely call upon her as
soon as I can. And now I must be going or it will be dark long before I
get back to River Heights."
Nancy said good-bye hastily. The Horner girls accompanied her to
the roadster and watched her drive away. As she looked back from the
corner, they waved their handkerchiefs.
"Plucky girls!" Nancy thought. "Until to-day I didn't realize how
terribly they need help. I simply must find a way to help them!"
She drove along the River Road, heading in the direction of Masonville.
Although it was growing late, Nancy was determined to visit the Mathews
brothers, and, if possible, Matilda and Edna Turner.
After she had gone perhaps five miles, she began to watch the
mailboxes, and presently noticed one which bore the name "Mathews." The
farmhouse was set back a short distance from the road, and Nancy drove
the roadster down a narrow lane which led to it.
As she stopped the car, a man came out of the house and regarded her
questioningly. Learning that the farmer was William Mathews, Nancy
quickly explained her mission. At first the man was inclined to
distrust her, but after he had made certain that she was not a friend
of the Richard Topham family, he talked frankly of Josiah Crowley and
told all that he knew concerning the will.
"My brother and I have filed a complaint with the proper authorities at
the courthouse," he explained. "We feel certain there must have been
another will because Uncle Josiah always said that he intended to leave
us something."
"Did you actually see the will?" Nancy questioned hopefully.
The farmer shook his head.
"No, my brother and I haven't the proof that he ever made a second
will. But we do know that he never had any particular love for the
Tophams. He felt that they took him in only because they were after his
money, and I guess he wasn't wrong at that. Anyway, I am certain he had
made up his mind to cut them off without a cent."
"Perhaps he neglected to write the second will."
"That wouldn't be like Uncle Josiah. He was rather queer about little
things, but he was always particular in attending to business matters.
No, I'm more apt to think he made the will and hid it somewhere."
"You have no idea where he could have concealed it?"
"Not the slightest, Miss. My brother and I will be glad to offer a
substantial reward to anyone who can produce it."
Nancy asked a number of other questions, but the farmer was unable to
furnish information which was of any value. Disappointed, she thanked
the man for his trouble, and continued on her way to Masonville.
"Rumor! Rumor!" she sighed. "That's all I hear. At my next stop I hope
I'll acquire a few facts!"
Upon reaching Masonville, Nancy made inquiry and was directed to the
home of the Turner sisters. They lived alone at the outskirts of the
city. Although not in poverty, they did not have any more money than
they needed.
Nancy found them at home, and when they learned the purpose of her
visit they greeted her cordially. They were very pleasant ladies and
she spent nearly an hour at their home. But although they answered her
questions willingly, she learned nothing which had a direct bearing on
the missing will.
Matilda and Edna Turner insisted that Josiah Crowley had intended to
disinherit the Tophams, but they had no idea what could have become of
the later will. They had been led to expect a small inheritance, and
were disappointed that everything was to go to the Tophams.
"Why don't you talk with Abigail Rowen?" Matilda suggested at the
conclusion of the interview. "She took care of Josiah once when he was
sick, and he thought a lot of her. She knew more about his queer ways
than any other living person."
"I don't believe it would do a particle of good," Edna interposed.
"Abigail is getting along in years, and her memory isn't what it used
to be."
It was after dark when at last Nancy took leave of the Turner sisters
and headed her roadster toward home. She was tired and hungry as well
as discouraged.
"So far I've only wasted my time," she thought despondently. "I'm no
closer to finding the will than I ever was, and I'm sure there is one.
I've often heard father say that no real mystery is solved without a
lot of hard work--and I'm ready to believe it!"
With the exception of Abigail Rowen, Nancy had called upon all of the
Crowley relatives. From what the Turner sisters had told her, she was
doubtful that a visit to her cottage would be worth while.
"Oh, well, I suppose I may as well go there to-morrow," Nancy decided,
after a mental debate. "She's my last hope. If I fail there, I'll be
forced to give up."