PUZZLED AGAIN
As soon as their breakfast was over, Dories asked her Aunt if she were
willing that the girls go to Siquaw Center for the mail. “I always get a
letter from Mother on the Friday morning train,” was the excuse she gave,
“and, of course, I am simply wild to hear what she will have to say
today; that is, if she does know about—well, about what you told us that
father’s lawyer had written.”
Miss Moore was glad to be alone, for she had had a sleepless night. She
had long dreamed that, perhaps, when she became acquainted with her
niece, that young person might be able to influence the stubborn mother
to accept the home that the old woman had offered, and that peace might
again be restored to the lonely, repentant heart. But now, just as that
dream seemed about to be fulfilled, the mother was placed in a position
of complete independence, and so, of course, she would never be willing
to share the home of her husband’s great-aunt. The desolate loneliness of
the years ahead, however few they might be, depressed the old woman
greatly. Dories, seeing tears in the grey eyes, stooped impulsively, and,
for the second time, she kissed her great-aunt. “If you will let me, I’m
coming to visit you often,” she whispered, as though she had read her
aunt’s thoughts. Then away the two girls went.
It was a glorious morning and they skipped along as fast as they could on
the sandy road. Mrs. Strait, with a baby on one arm, was tending the
general store and post office when the girls entered. No one else was in
sight.
“Good morning, Mrs. Strait. Is there any mail for Miss Dories Moore?”
that young maiden inquired.
“Yeah, thar is, an’ a picher card for tother young miss,” was the welcome
reply.
Dories fairly pounced on the letter that was handed her. “Good, it _is_
from Mother! I am almost sure that she will want me to come home,” she
exclaimed gleefully. But when the message had been read, Dories looked up
with a puzzled expression. “How queer!” she said. “Mother doesn’t say one
thing about the stock; not even that she has heard about it, but she does
say that she and Brother are leaving today on a business journey and that
she may not write again for some time. I’ll read you what she says at the
end: ‘Daughter dear, if your Aunt Jane wishes to return to Boston before
you again hear from me, I would like you to remain with her until I send
for you. Peter is standing at my elbow begging me to tell you that he is
going to travel on a train just as you did. I judge from your letters
that you and Nann are having an interesting time after all, but, of
course, you would be happy, I am sure, anywhere with Nann!’” Dories
looked up questioningly. “Don’t you think it is very strange that Mother
should go somewhere and not tell me where or why?”
Nann laughed. “Maybe she thought that she would add another mystery to
those we are trying to solve,” she suggested, but Dories shook her head.
“No, that wasn’t Mother’s reason. Perhaps—O, well, what’s the use of
guessing? Who was your card from?”
“Dad, of course. I judge that he will be glad when his daughter returns.
O, Dori,” Nann interrupted herself to exclaim, “do look at that pair of
black eyes peering at us out of that bundle!” She nodded toward the baby,
wrapped in a blanket, that had been placed in a basket on the counter.
The girls leaned over the little creature, who actually tried to talk to
them but ended its chatter with a cracked little crow. “He ain’t a mite
like Gib,” the pleased mother told them. “The rest of us is sandy
complected, but this un is black as a crow, an’ jest as jolly all the
time as yo’uns see him now.”
“What is the little fellow’s name, Mrs. Strait?” Nann asked.
The woman looked anxiously toward the door; then said in a low voice:
“I’m wantin’ to give the little critter a Christian name—Moses, Jacop, or
the like, but his Pa is set on the notion of namin’ ’em all after
geography straits, an’ I ain’t one to hold out about nothin’.” She
sighed. “But it’s long past time to christen the poor little mite.”
Nann and Dories tried hard not to let their mirth show in their faces.
The older girl inquired: “Why hasn’t he been christened, Mrs. Strait?
Can’t you decide on a name?”
“Wall, yo’ see it’s this a-way,” the gaunt, angular woman explained. “Gib
didn’t fetch home his geography books, an’ school don’t open up till snow
falls in these here parts. So baby’ll have to wait, I reckon, bein’ as
Gib don’t recollect no strait names.” Then, with hope lighting her plain
face, the woman asked: “Do you girls know any of them geography names?”
Dories and Nann looked at each other blankly. “Why, there is Magellan,”
one said. “And Dover,” the other supplemented.
Mrs. Strait looked pleased. “Seems like that thar Dover one ought to do
as wall as any. Please to write it down so’s Pa kin see it an’ tother un
along side of it.”
The girls left the store as soon as they could, fearing that they would
have to laugh, and they did not want to hurt the mother’s feelings, and
so, after purchasing some chocolate bars, they darted away without having
learned where Gib was.
“Not that it matters,” Nann said when they were nearing the beach. “He
won’t come over, probably, until tomorrow morning with Dick.”
“But Dick said he would arrive on Friday,” Dories reminded her friend.
“Yes, I know, but if he leaves Boston after school is out in the
afternoon, he won’t get there until evening.”
“They might come over then,” Dories insisted. A few moments later, as
they were nearing the cabin, she added: “There is no appetizing aroma to
greet us today. Aunt Jane is probably still in bed.” Then, turning toward
Nann, the younger girl said earnestly: “Truly, I feel so sorry for her.
She seems heartbroken to think that Mother and Peter and I will not need
to share her home. I believe she fretted about it all night; she looked
so hollow-eyed and sick this morning.”
Dories was right. The old woman was still in bed, and when her niece went
in to see what she wanted, Miss Moore said: “Will you girls mind so very
much if we go home on Monday. I am not feeling at all well, and, if I am
in Boston I can send for a doctor. Here I might die before one could
reach me.”
“Of course we want to go whenever you wish,” Dories declared. She did not
mention what her mother had written. There would be time enough later.
Out in the kitchen Dories talked it over with Nann. “You’ll be sorry to
go before you solve the mystery of the old ruin, won’t you?” the younger
girl asked.
Nann whirled about, eyes laughing, stove poker upheld. “I’ll prophesy
that the mystery will all be solved before our train leaves on Monday
morning,” she said merrily.
After her lunch, which this time truly was of toast and tea, Miss Moore
said that she felt as though she could sleep all the afternoon if she
were left alone, and so Dories and Nann donned their bright-colored tams
and sweater-coats, as there was a cool wind, and went out on the beach
wondering where they would go and what they would do. “Let’s visit the
punt and see that nothing has happened to it,” Dories suggested.
They soon reached the end of the sandy road. Nann glanced casually in the
direction of Siquaw, then stopped and, narrowing her eyes, she gazed
steadily into the distance for a long moment. “Don’t you see a moving
object coming this way?” she inquired.
Dories nodded as she declared: “It’s old Spindly, of course, and I
suppose Gib is on it. I wonder why he is coming over at this hour. It
isn’t later than two, is it?”
“Not that even.” Dories glanced at her wrist-watch as she spoke. For
another long moment they stood watching the object grow larger. Not until
it was plain to them that it was the old white horse with two riders did
they permit their delight to be expressed. “Dick has come! He must have
arrived on the noon train. It must be a holiday!” Dories exclaimed, and
Nann added, “Or at least Dick has proclaimed it one.” Then they both
waved for the boys, having observed them from afar, were swinging their
caps.
“Isn’t it great that I could come today?” was Dick’s first remark after
the greetings had been exchanged. “Class having exams and I was exempt.”
Nann’s eyes glowed. “Isn’t that splendid, Dick? I know what that means.
Your daily average was so high you were excused from the test.”
The city boy flushed. “Well, it wasn’t my fault. It’s an easy subject for
me. I’m wild about history and I don’t seem able to forget anything that
I read.” Then, smiling at the country boy, he added: “Gib, here, tells me
that you haven’t visited the old ruin since I left. That was mighty nice
of you. I’ve been thinking so much about that mysterious airplane chap
this past week, it’s a wonder I could get any of my lessons right.”
“Isn’t it the queerest thing?” Nann said. “That airplane hasn’t been seen
or heard since you left.”
“I ain’t so sure.” Gib had removed his cap and was scratching one ear as
he did when puzzled. “Pa ’n’ me both thought we heard a hummin’ one
night, but ’twas far off, sort o’. I reckon’d, like’s not, that pilot
fellar lit his boat way out in the water and slid back in quiet-like.”
Dick, much interested, nodded. “He could have done that, you know. He may
realize that there are people on the point and he may not wish to have
his movements observed.” Then eagerly: “Can you girls go right now? The
tide is just right and we wanted to give that old dining-room a thorough
overhauling, you know.”
“Yes, we can go. Aunt Jane is going to sleep all of the afternoon.” Then
impulsively Dories turned toward the red-headed boy. “Gib,” she exclaimed
contritely, “I’m just ever so sorry that I called Aunt Jane queer or
cross. Something happened this week which has proved that she is very
different in her heart from what we supposed her to be. She has just been
achingly lonely for years, and some family affairs which, of course,
would interest no one but ourselves, have made her shut herself away from
everyone. I’m ever so sorry for her, and I know that from now on I’m
going to love her just dearly.”
“So am I,” Nann said very quietly. “I wish we had realized that all this
time Miss Moore has been hungering for us to love and be kind to her. We
girls sometimes forget that elderly people have much the same feelings
that we have.”
“I know,” Dick agreed as they walked four abreast toward the creek where
the punt was hid, “I have an old grandmother who is always so happy when
we youngsters include her in our good times.” Then he added in a changed
tone: “Hurray! There’s the old punt! Now, all aboard!” Ever chivalrous,
Dick held out a hand to each girl, but it was to Nann that he said with
conviction: “This is the day that we are to solve the mystery.”