Hard to Believe
Smiling to herself in the darkness, Sim pushed over in the twin bed so
that Terry could get in. Even at that, neither one would have very much
space, and Sim was amused to think that Terry, the trenchant, should feel
like spending the rest of the night with her rather than alone in her own
bed.
“I’ll see that Rufus Reilly hears about this,” remarked Terry, burrowing
under the covers. “The idea of disturbing honest peace-loving people in
the middle of the night! What Oceanedge is coming to, I don’t know.”
“Who’s Rufus Reilly?” asked Arden.
“He’s the police force,” Terry replied. “He owns the only garage in the
village and Dimitri’s houseboat too.”
“Quite a factor in the life of the community, isn’t he?” Sim murmured
sleepily.
“Don’t make fun of him, Sim,” Terry rebuked. “He’s a very important man.
He says so himself.”
“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Arden declared, yawning freely. “I want to
look my best when I meet the chief.”
The conversation dragged, and feeling secure in the knowledge that the
midnight intruder had gone, the girls finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, after breakfast, and with Mrs. Landry’s consent, they
started for the village to report to Chief Reilly.
Leaving by the front door, they were on their way to the garage at the
back when they came face to face with George Clayton, Melissa’s father.
“Good-morning,” he said a little sheepishly. Perhaps he was conscious of
his somewhat fishy-scented clothes and muddy hip boots.
“’Morning,” Terry replied, and waited for him to speak again. All the
girls felt rather antagonistic toward him, since they had witnessed his
treatment of Melissa.
“I wuz wonderin’,” he began again, “that is—have you young ladies seen
anythin’ of my daughter Melissa?”
“Why, no. Not since early last evening,” Arden replied. “Why?”
“I wuz a little worried about her. She ain’t been home all night, and I
thought maybe——”
“The last time we saw her, she was riding in a green car that some woman
who came to see the artist on the houseboat parked here,” Sim
volunteered.
George Clayton blinked his eyes rapidly and seemed at a loss for anything
to say to that surprising news.
“U-hum-m!” He shook his head. “Melissa ain’t entirely responsible, you
know. She’s overly fond of bright things. Like a blue jay. She just can’t
resist ’em.”
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Arden. “I do hope nothing happened to her.”
“We were just going to the village to tell Rufus Reilly about a burglar
we had around here last night,” Terry explained. “Shall we tell him to
look for Melissa?”
“Oh, no, miss, please!” Clayton exclaimed. “He knows all about Melissa.
Thinks I ought to send her to some institution. But I can’t bear—to do
that,” he concluded rather pathetically.
“Why didn’t you let her keep the bracelet the other day?” Sim asked
suddenly. “It was only worth a quarter. Perhaps she ran away because
you——”
“I know, miss,” Clayton interrupted, “she possibly told you how mean I
was to her. But if I let her keep it she’d follow you around all the
time, looking for something else.” After all, perhaps the man was not so
mean as they had thought.
“Say!” exclaimed Terry suddenly. “Maybe that was Melissa we heard last
night, coming back for the bracelet!”
“It did look like her, I mean her height and all,” agreed Sim. “I’m sure
that’s just who it was.”
“She might have done it,” the fisherman admitted reluctantly. “You won’t
tell Reilly, will you?”
“If you can keep her away from here so she won’t scare us out of our wits
again, we won’t,” Terry agreed. For the girls still believed in their
hearts that Melissa was to be pitied and, though he said not, they felt
that her father was a hard man to deal with.
“When she comes back I’ll——” Clayton began but never finished, for there
was Melissa herself walking toward them along the little path. Her pale
pink cotton dress was a mass of wrinkles, and her hair in uncouth
disarray. One white string of her sneakers flapped as she walked.
Instantly her father was a changed man. As soon as he saw her he drew
himself up to his full height and assumed an aggressive manner.
“Melissa!” he shouted. “Come here!”
“Yes, Pa,” she answered meekly and came slowly forward with one arm held
up near her face as though to ward off a blow.
“Where wuz you last night?” he demanded.
“Here, Pa. I slept in the car in the garage,” came the surprising reply.
“Why didn’t you come home?” he shouted at her.
“I was afraid to. The lady took me for such a nice ride, it was late when
I got back.” Poor Melissa, thought the girls.
“What lady?” snarled her father.
“I dunno her name. The pretty one with the nice fur. She asked me if I’d
like a ride, so I said yes. She gave me a quarter, too.” Melissa held out
her tanned hand and showed them the money.
“Don’t you know any better than to go riding off with strangers?” her
father shouted. “And scarin’ these young ladies, who was so nice to you,
out of their wits? Wuz you around this house last night?”
“I was just lookin’ in a window. I didn’t mean any harm.” How cruel for a
poor girl to be helpless!
“Well, you come along home with me.”
Melissa looked woefully at the surprised girls and started off to follow
her father, who went clumping down the path in his hip boots.
“Mr. Clayton,” called Arden after him. “Please don’t punish Melissa; she
didn’t do any harm.”
“I’ll take care of Melissa,” he answered shortly, completely forgetting
how anxious he had been only a short time before to appear the worried
father.
“If you touch her I’ll, I’ll——” Arden said, but he continued on his way,
not even listening to her.
“What a horrid old man!” Terry remarked anxiously. “First he shows his
concern and then——”
“His teeth,” finished Sim.