The Slipper Point Mystery | Page 2

The younger child smiled broadly, removed her
thumb from her mouth and began to munch ecstatically on a large piece
of chocolate proffered by her sister.
"You 're awfully kind," remarked the older girl between two bites, "but
what 'll your mother say?"
"Why, she won't care. She gave me the money and told me to go get it

and amuse myself. It's awfully dull up at the hotel. It's so early in the
season that there's almost nobody else there, - only two old ladies and a
few men that come down at night, - besides Mother and myself. I hate
going to the country so early, before things start, only Mother has been
sick and needed the change right away. So here we are - and I'm as dull
as dishwater and so lonesome! What's your name?"
The other girl had been drinking in all this information with such
greedy interest that she scarcely heard or heeded the question which
ended it. Without further questioning she realized that this new
acquaintance was a guest at "The Bluffs," the one exclusive and
fashionable hotel on the river. She at once became guiltily conscious of
her own bare brown toes, still wriggling in the warm sand. She blamed
herself fiercely for not taking the trouble to put on her shoes and
stockings that afternoon. Up till this moment it had scarcely seemed
worth while.
"Tell me, what's your name?" the girl in white and pink reiterated.
"Sarah," she answered, "but most every one calls me Sally. What's
yours?"
"Doris Craig," was the reply and the girl of the bare toes unconsciously
noted that "Doris" was an entirely fitting name for so dainty a creature.
And somehow she dreaded to answer the question as to her own.
"My name's horrid," she added, "and I always did hate it. But baby's is
pretty - Genevieve. Mother named her that, 'cause Father insisted that
mine must be 'Sarah,' after his mother. She said she was going to have
one pretty name in the family, anyway. Genevieve, take your thumb out
of your mouth!"
"Why do you tell her to do that?" demanded Doris, curiously.
"'Cause Mother says it 'll make her mouth a bad shape if she keeps it up,
and she told me it was up to me to stop it. You see I have Genevieve
with me most of the time. Mother's so busy." But by this time, Doris's
roving eye had caught the sign forbidding children to play in the boats.

"Do you see that?" she asked. "Aren't you afraid to be sitting around in
that boat?"
"Huh!" exclaimed Sally scornfully. "That doesn't mean Genevieve and
me."
"Why not?" cried Doris perplexedly.
"'Cause we belong here. Captain Carter's our father. All these boats
belong to him. Besides, it's so early in the season that it doesn't matter
anyway. Even we don't do it much in July and August."
"Oh!" exclaimed Doris, a light beginning to break on her understanding.
"Then that - er - lady up at the candy counter is your mother?" She
referred to the breathlessly busy, pleasant, though anxious-faced
woman who had sold her the candy.
"Yes. She's awfully busy all the time, 'cause she has to wait on the soda
and candy and ice cream, and see that the freezer's working all right,
and a lot of other things. In July and August we have to have girls from
the village to help. We don't see much of her in the summer, -
Genevieve and I. We just have to take care of ourselves. And that's Dad,
down on the dock." She pointed to a tall, lanky, slouchily dressed man
who was directing the lowering of a sail in one of the catboats.
"Yes, I know Captain Carter," averred Doris. "I hired this canoe of
him."
"Did you go and hire a canoe - all by yourself?" inquired Sally, eyeing
her very youthful new acquaintance with some wonder. "How did your
mother come to let you?"
"Well, you see Mother's been awfully sick and she isn't at all well yet.
Has to stay in bed a good deal of the day and just sits around on the
veranda the rest of the time. She couldn't tend to things like that, so I've
got used to doing them myself lately. I dress myself and fix my hair all
by myself, without the least help from her, - which I couldn't do three
months ago. I did it today. Don't you think I look all right?"

Again Sally flushed with the painful consciousness of her own unkempt
appearance, especially her bare feet. "Oh, yes! You look fine," she
acknowledged sheepishly. And then added, as a concession to her own
attire:
"I hate to get all dressed up these hot days, 'specially