CHAPTER III
SALLY CAPITULATES
It was the beginning of a close friendship. For more than a weekthereafter, the girls were constantly together. They met every morningby appointment at the hotel dock, where Sally always rowed up in "45,"and Genevieve never failed to be the third member of the party. Thecanoe was quite neglected, except occasionally, in the evening, whenDoris and Sally alone paddled about in her for a short time beforesunset, or just after. Sally introduced Doris to every spot on theriver, every shady bay and inlet or creek that was of the slightestinterest. They explored the deserted mill, gathered immense quantitiesof water-lilies in Cranberry Creek, penetrated for several miles up thewindings of the larger creek that was the source of the river, campedand picnicked for the day on the island, and paddled barefooted all oneafternoon in the rippling water across its golden bar.
Beside that, they deserted the boat one day and walked to the ocean andback, through the scented aisles of an interminable pine forest. On theocean beach they explored the wreck of a schooner cast up on the sand inthe storm of a past winter, and played hide-and-seek with Genevieveamong the billowy dunes. But in all this time neither had once mentionedthe subject of the secret on Slipper Point. Doris, though consumed withimpatient curiosity, was politely waiting for Sally to make any furtherdisclosures she might choose, and Sally was waiting for--she knew notquite what! But had she realized it, she would have known she waswaiting for some final proof that her confidence in her new friend wasnot misplaced.
Not even yet was she absolutely certain that Doris was as utterlyfriendly as she seemed. Though she scarcely acknowledged it to herself,she was dreading and fearing that this new, absorbing friendship couldnot last. When the summer had advanced and there were more companionsof Doris's own kind in Manituck, it would all come to an end. She wouldbe forgotten or neglected, or, perhaps even snubbed for more suitableacquaintances. How could it be otherwise? And how could she disclose hermost precious secret to one who might later forsake her and even impartit to some one else? No, she would wait.
In the meantime, while Doris was growing rosy and brown in the healthfuloutdoor life she was leading with Sally, Sally herself was imbibing newideas and thoughts and interests in long, ecstatic draughts. Chief amongall these were the books--the wonderful books and magazines that Dorishad brought with her in a seemingly endless amount. Sometimes Doriscould scarcely extract a word from Sally during a whole long morning orafternoon, so deeply absorbed was she in some volume loaned her by herobliging friend. And Doris also knew that Sally sat up many a night,devouring by candle-light the book she wanted to return next day--sothat she might promptly replace it by another!
One thing puzzled Doris,--the curious choice of books that seemed toappeal to Sally. She read them all with equal avidity and appeared toenjoy them all at the time, but some she returned to for a secondreading, and one in particular she demanded again and again. Doris's ownchoice lay in the direction of Miss Alcott's works and "Little LordFauntleroy" and her favorites among Dickens. Sally took these all inwith the rest, but she borrowed a second time the books of a moreadventurous type, and to Doris's constant wonder, declared Stevenson's"Treasure Island" to be her favorite among them all. So frequently didshe borrow this, that Doris finally gave her the book for her own, muchto Sally's amazement and delight.
"Why do you like 'Treasure Island' best?" Doris asked her point-blank,one day. Sally's manner immediately grew a trifle reserved.
"Because--because," she stammered, "it is like--like something--oh! Ican't just tell you right now, Doris. Perhaps I will some day." AndDoris said no more, but put the curious remark away in her mind towonder over.
"It's something connected with her secret--that I'm sure!" thoughtDoris. "I do wish she felt like telling me, but until she does, I'll trynot even to think about it."
But, all unknown to Doris, the time of her final testing, in Sally'seyes, was rapidly approaching. Sally herself, however, had known of itand thought over it for a week or more. About the middle of June, therecame every year to the "Bluffs" a certain party of young folks, half adozen or more in number, with their parents, to stay till the middle ofJuly, when they usually left for the mountains. They were boys and girlsof about Doris's age or a trifle older, rollicking, fun-loving, a littleboisterous, perhaps, and on the go from morning till night. They spenttheir mornings at the ocean bathing-beach, their afternoons steaming upand down the river in the fastest motor-boat available, and theirevenings dancing in the hotel parlor when they could find any one toplay for them. Sally had known them by sight for several years, thoughnever once, in all that time, had they so much as deigned to notice herexistence.
"If Doris deserts me for them," she told herself, "then I'll be mightyglad I never told her my secret. Oh, I do wonder what she'll do whenthey come!"
And then they came. Sally knew of their arrival that evening, when theyrioted down to the Landing to procure the fastest launch her fatherrented. And she waited, inwardly on tenterhooks of anxiety, for thedevelopments of the coming days. But, to her complete surprise, nothinghappened. Doris sought her company as usual, and for a day or two nevereven mentioned the presence of the newcomers. At last Sally could bearit no longer.
"How do you like the Campbells and Hobarts who are at your hotel now?"she inquired one morning.
"Why, they're all right," said Doris indifferently, feathering her oarswith the joy of a newly-acquired accomplishment.
"But you don't seem to go around with them," ventured Sally uncertainly.
"Oh, they tire me to death, they're so rackety!" yawned Doris. "I likefun and laughing and joking and shouting as well as the nextperson--once in a while. But I can't stand it for steady diet. It's amorning, noon and night performance with them. They've invited me to gowith them a number of times, and I will go once in a while, so as not toseem unsociable, but much of it would bore me to death. By the way,Sally, Mother told me to ask you to come to dinner with us tonight, ifyou care to. She's very anxious to meet you, for I've told her such alot about you. Do you think your mother will allow you to come?"
Sally turned absolutely scarlet with the shock of surprise and joy thistotally unexpected invitation caused her.
"Why--yes--er--that is, I think so. Oh, I'm sure of it! But, Doris, doyou _really_ want me? I'm--well, I'm only Sally Carter, you know," shestammered.
"Why, of course I want you!" exclaimed Doris, opening her eyes widewith surprise. "I shouldn't have asked you if I hadn't." And so it wassettled. Sally was to come up that afternoon, for once withoutGenevieve, and have dinner at "The Bluffs" with the Craigs. She spent anagonized two hours making her toilet for the occasion, assisted by heranxious mother, who could scarcely fathom the reason for sounprecedented an invitation. When she was arrayed in the very bestattire she owned (and a very creditable appearance she made, since shehad adopted some of Doris's well-timed hints), her mother kissed her,bade her "mind how she used her knife and fork," and she set out for thehotel, joyful on one score, but thoroughly uncomfortable on many others.
But she forgot much of her agitation in the meeting with Mrs. Craig, apale, lovely, golden-haired woman of the gentlest and most winningmanner in the world. In five minutes she had put the shy, awkwardvillage girl completely at her ease, and the three were soon conversingas unrestrainedly as if the mother of Doris was no more than their ownage. But Sally could easily divine, from her weakness and pallor, howill Mrs. Craig had been, and how far from strong she still was.
Dinner at their own cosy little table was by no means the ordeal Sallyhad expected, and when it was over Mrs. Craig retired to her room andSally and Doris went out to sit for a while on the broad veranda. It washere that Doris passed the final test that Sally had set for her. Thereapproached the sound of trooping footsteps and laughing voices, and inanother moment, the entire Campbell-Hobart clan clattered by.
"Hello, Doris!" they greeted her. "Coming in to dance tonight?"
"I don't know," answered Doris. "Have you met my
friend, Sally Carter?"And she made all the introductions with unconcerned, easy grace. TheCampbell-Hobart faction stared. They knew Sally Carter perfectly well bysight, and all about who she was. What on earth was she doing here--at"The Bluffs"? A number of them murmured some indistinct rejoinder andone of them, in the background, audibly giggled. Sally heard the giggleand flushed painfully. But Doris was superbly indifferent to it all.
"Do you dance, Sally?" she inquired, and Sally stammered that she didnot.
"Then we'll go down to the river and paddle about awhile," went onDoris. "It's much nicer than stampeding about that hot parlor." TheCampbell-Hobart crowd melted away. "Come on, Sally!" said Doris, and,linking arms with her new friend, she strolled down the steps to theriver, without alluding, by so much as a single syllable, to therudeness of that noisy, thoughtless group.
And in the heart of Sally Carter there sprang into being such anabsolute idolatry of adoration for this glorious new girl friend thatshe was ready to lie down and die for her at a moment's notice. The lastbarrier, the last doubt, was swept completely away. And, as they driftedabout in the fading after-glow, Sally remarked, apropos of nothing:
"If you like, we'll go up to Slipper Point tomorrow, and--I'll showyou--that secret!"
"Oh, Sally," breathed Doris in an awestruck whisper, "willyou--_really_?"
The Slipper Point Mystery Page 3