LETTERS OF IMPORTANCE
The young people found the grey of dawn in the sky when they emerged
through the hole under one corner of the roof and a new terror presented
itself. “What if the receding tide had left their boat high and dry.” But
luckily there was still enough water in the narrow creek to take them out
to the cove. Since they were in haste, the sail was put in place and a
brisk wind from the land took them out and around the point. There was
still too high a surf to make possible a landing on the platform rock and
so the girls were obliged to go with the boys as far as the inlet in
which Gib kept his punt. The white horse had been tied to a scrubby tree
near, but, before he mounted, Dick took off his hat and held out a hand
to each of the girls in turn, assuring them that he had been ever so glad
to meet them and that if all went well, he would return the following
week-end.
“And we will promise not to visit the old ruin again until you come,”
Nann told him. The boy’s face brightened. “O, I say!” he exclaimed,
“that’s too much to ask.” But Gib assured him that half the fun was
having him along.
Just before they rode away, Dick turned to call: “Keep a watch-out on our
cabin, will you, Nann? I really don’t believe anyone has been there,
however. Mother remembered that she had left the back door open.”
“All right. We will. Good-bye.”
Slowly the girls walked toward their home-cabin. “Do you suppose we ought
to tell Aunt Jane that we visited the old ruin at midnight?” Dories
asked.
“Why, no, dear, I don’t,” was the thoughtful reply. “Your Aunt Jane told
us to do anything we could find to amuse us, don’t you recall, that very
first day after we had opened up the cottage and were wondering what to
do?”
Dories nodded. “I remember. She must have heard us talking while we were
dusting and straightening the living-room. That was the day that I said I
believed the place was haunted, and you said you hoped there was a ghost
or something mysterious.”
Nann stopped and faced her companion. Her eyes were merry. “Dori Moore,”
she exclaimed, “I believe your aunt _did_ hear my wish and that she has
been trying to grant it by writing those mysterious messages and leaving
them where we would find them.”
“Maybe you are right,” her friend agreed. “I wish we could catch her in
the act.” Then Dories added: “Nann, if Aunt Jane is really doing that
just for fun, then she can’t be such an old grouch as I thought her. You
know I told you how I was sure that I heard her chuckling.”
The older girl nodded, then as the back porch of the cabin had been
reached, they went quietly up the steps and into the kitchen.
“It’s going to be a long week waiting for Dick to return,” Dories said as
she began to make a fire in the stove. “What shall we do to pass away the
time?”
Nann smiled brightly. “O, we’ll find plenty to do!” she said. “There is
that box of books in the loft. Surely there will be a few that we would
like to read and that your Aunt Jane would like to hear. We have left her
alone so much,” Nann continued, “don’t you think this last week that we
ought to spend more time adding to her happiness if we can?”
Dories flushed. “I wish I’d been the one to say that,” she confessed,
“since Great-Aunt Jane loved my father so much when he was a boy.”
Although the girls had their breakfast early, it was not until the usual
hour that Dories took the tray in to her aunt. Nann followed with
something that had been forgotten. They were surprised to see the old
woman propped up in bed reading the book of ghost stories which Dories
had left in the room. She fairly beamed at them when they entered. Then
she asked, “Do you girls believe in ghosts?”
“Oh, no. Aunt Jane,” Dories began rather hesitatingly. “That is, I don’t
believe that I do.”
The sharp grey eyes, in which a twinkle seemed to be lurking, turned
toward Nann. “Do you?” she asked briefly.
“No, indeed, Miss Moore, I do not,” was the emphatic reply, then, just
for mischief, the girl asked, “Do you?”
“Indeed I do,” was the unexpected response. “A ghost visited me last
night and told me that you girls had gone with Gibralter Strait and the
Burton boy over to visit the old ruin.”
“Aunt Jane! Miss Moore!” came in two amazed exclamations.
“We did go. I sincerely hope you do not object,” the older girl hastened
to say.
“No, I don’t object. There’s nothing over there that can hurt you. Now
I’d like my breakfast, if you please.”
When the girls returned to the kitchen, Dories whispered, “Nann, how in
the world did she know?”
The older girl shook her head. “Mysteries seem to be piling up instead of
being solved,” she said.
“Do you suppose Aunt Jane knows who the air pilot is and why he goes to
the old ruin?” Dories wondered as they went about their morning tasks.
“I’ll tell you what, let’s stay around home pretty closely for a few days
and see if anyone does visit Aunt Jane, shall we?”
The old woman seemed to be glad to have the companionship of the girls.
They read to her in the morning, and on the third afternoon their
suspicions were aroused by the fact that their hostess asked them why
they stayed around the cabin all of the time. It was quite evident to
them that she wanted to be left alone.
“Would it be too far for you to walk into town and see if there isn’t
some mail for me?” Miss Moore inquired early on the fourth morning of the
week. “I am expecting some very important letters. That boy Gibralter was
told to bring them the minute they came, but these Straits are such a
shiftless lot.” Then, almost eagerly, looking from one girl to another,
she inquired: “It isn’t too far for you to walk, is it? You can hire
Gibralter to bring you back in the stage.”
“We’d love to go,” Nann said most sincerely, and Dories echoed the
sentiment. The truth was the girls had been puzzled because Gib had not
appeared. Indeed, nothing had happened for four days. Although they had
searched everywhere they could think of, there had been no message for
them telling in how many days they would know all. An hour later, when
they were walking along the marsh-edged sandy road leading to town, they
discussed the matter freely, since no one could possibly overhear. “If
Aunt Jane really has been writing those notes and leaving them for us to
find, do you suppose that she has stopped writing them because she thinks
we suspect her of being the ghost?” Dories asked.
“I don’t see why she should suspect, as we have said nothing in her
hearing; in fact, we were out on the beach when I told you that I thought
your Aunt Jane might be writing the notes,” Nann replied.
Dories nodded. “That is true,” she agreed. Then she stopped and stared at
her companion as she exclaimed: “Nann Sibbett, I don’t believe that Aunt
Jane writes them at all. I believe Gibralter Strait does. There hasn’t
been a note for four days anywhere in the cabin, and Gib hasn’t been to
the point in all that time. There, now, doesn’t that seem to prove my
point?”
“It surely does!” Nann said as they started walking on toward the town.
“Only I thought we agreed that probably Gib couldn’t write. But I do
recall that he said he went to a country school in the winter months when
his father didn’t need him to help in the store.”
“If Gib writes them he is a good actor,” Dories commented. “He certainly
seemed very much surprised when we showed him the notes, you remember.”
Nann agreed. “It’s all very puzzling,” she said, then added, “What a
queer little hamlet this is?” They were passing the first house in Siquaw
Center. “I don’t suppose there are more than eight houses in all,” she
continued. “What do you suppose the people do for a living?”
“Work on the railroad, I suppose,” Nann guessed. They had reached the
ramshackle building that held the post office and general store when they
saw Gib driving the stage around from the barns. “Hi thar!” he called to
them excitedly. “I got some mail for yo’uns. I was jest a-goin’ to fetch
it over, like I promised Miss Moore. It didn’t come till jest this
mornin’. Thar’s some mail for yo’uns, too. A letter from Dick Burton. He
writ me one along o’ yourn.”
The girls climbed up on the high seat by Gib’s side. The day had been
growing very warm as noon neared and they had found it hard walking in
the sand, and so they were not sorry that they were to ride back. Gib
gave them two long legal envelopes addressed to Miss Moore and the letter
from Dick.
Eagerly Nann opened it, as it had been written especially to her, and
after reading it she exclaimed: “Well, isn’t this queer?”
“What?” Dories, who was consumed with curiosity, exclaimed.
“Dick writes that he told his mother that he had found that upper front
room window open and the blind swinging, but she declares that she
_knows_ all of the upper windows were closed and the blinds securely
fastened. She had been in every room to try them just before she left,
and that was what had delayed her so long that, in her hurry, she took
the key out of the back door, hung it in its hiding place, without having
turned it in the lock. Dick says that he’s wild to get back to Siquaw,
and that the first thing he is going to do is to search in that upper
room for clues.”
Gib nodded. “That’s what he wrote into my letter. He’s comin’ down Friday
arter school lets out, so’s we’ll have more time over to the ruin. Dick
says he’s sot on ferritin’ out what that pilot fella does thar.”
Old Spindly seemed to feel spryer than usual and trotted along the sandy
road at such a pace that in a very little while they had reached the end
of it at the beach.
“Wall, so long,” Gib called when the girls had climbed down from the high
seat, but before they had turned to go, he ejaculated: “By time, if I
didn’t clear fergit ter give yo’uns the rest o’ yer mail. Here ’tis!”
Leaning down, he handed them another envelope. Before they could look at
it, he had snapped his whip and started back toward town. The girls
watched the old coach sway in the sand for a minute, then they glanced at
the envelope. On it in red ink was written both of their names.
“Well of all queer things!” Nann ejaculated. Tearing it open, they found
a message: “_Today you will know all._”