As Ted said afterwards: “It was some story!”

Nancy stood there on the stool, dangling an old rusty knife which she had just spied among the box of unclassified articles, and she told those boys a yarn, a regular old salt-yarn, which she frankly admitted was pure fiction.

But how they listened! As Ruth expressed it: “How hard they listened!”

No more jostling, nor pushing nor underhand squabbling. Every boy among them wanted to hear all that story, and consequently he was taking no chances on missing any of it.

“And when the old sea captain looked into the poor half-frozen face of that baby he had picked up, lashed to an icy—an icy plank,” Nancy trilled, becoming so interested in her subject she almost forgot the make up of it, “then he remembered,” she went on, “the big Newfoundland dog, Jack, who had fallen back into the sea exhausted from his long swim.”

She stopped. The boys said “Gosh,” and “Gee Whiz.” Buster said “Jingo!” and there were probably many other subdued and impulsive exclamations of the crisp boyish variety.

One little fellow who was sniffing audibly, piped up a question over Than’s shoulder.

“Say miss,” he said. “Say Miss—Nancy,” he corrected himself, “could a feller buy that there knife?”

“Why,” flushed Nancy, “the knife hasn’t anything to do with the story—”

“Naw!” came a chorus. “'Course not!”

“It was a corkin’ good story,” applauded Nort Duncan, clapping grimy hands.

“But you said the ole captain cut the ropes with a rusty knife—” the little fellow insisted.

“Now look here, boys,” called out Ruth suddenly. “You are all settled down, nice, quiet and orderly. Suppose we begin to see what you want to buy. There are three of us to serve you, and if we divide you up in three groups, I’m sure we can give every single one of you the biggest bargain you ever got in fishing tackle.”

After that, something like order prevailed, for most boys are not devoid of a sense of honor, not by any means, and surely after Nancy’s story they owed her attention and politeness.

Ted helped. He was able to hand out the poles and took pride in doing so. They were, most of them, nice shiny, new bamboo canes, and it didn’t matter how long it took him to please a customer. In one hour, however, he had sold ten at fifty cents, five at seventy-five cents and two at a dollar each. Ted was delighted, and secretly agreed with Nancy that “business was the thing.”

Meanwhile the girls were busy, and happy. Ruth had taken charge of the sinkers and hooks. Isabel was having a fine time with the crab nets and fancy reels, the nickel kind with the stem winders, while Nancy acted as general supervisor and director of the entire stock.

Things were going merrily and few disagreements marred the proceedings (not to count the scooping up of fellows’ caps in trying out crab nets, or the occasional protest from someone who would resent being poked with new fish poles), when there appeared at the door a very pleasant looking, in fact a very “good-looking” young girl.

“That’s Sanders’ girl,” said a boy into Nancy’s ear. “You know the feller that—disappears,” he hurried to explain.

Nancy had neither time nor opportunity to ask questions so she turned to meet the very blue eyes of the young girl in question.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” said the stranger. “I can wait,” and she stepped aside to let Tom Preston get change from a precious one dollar bill.

Nancy noticed that the young lady had all the known signs of college life. She wore a worsted tam o’ shanter (in summer), she also wore a sweater to match, with a tan golf skirt and—heavy stockings, ending in good, strong, walking Oxfords. If these signs were not collegian, thought Nancy, then the girl must be an actress which she obviously was not.

But she had so much personality, that was it, Nancy promptly decided while still counting out change for eager boys. Also, Nancy reasoned, she had such pronounced individuality, that one did not observe separately her brown hair, her blue eyes and her lustrous, fine healthy skin. She just looked perfect, at least to Nancy, who always loved the athletic type.

“Sanders’ girl!” Nancy was thinking. She didn’t know he had a daughter, but the girl looked like him, especially around her firm, determined mouth.

Ruth left her boys and was now offering to wait on Miss Sanders.

“I’m Sibyl Sanders, you know,” she told Ruth, “and I just dropped in to see if I couldn’t pick up something for dad.”

“We’re having quite a sale,” replied Ruth pleasantly. “When things thin out a little I should like to introduce you to Nancy Brandon. This is her idea of a vacation,” Ruth added quizzically.

“Isn’t it splendid?” replied Sibyl, brightening with enthusiasm. “I just ran up to Long Leigh to see dad. He insists upon spending a lot of time up here,” she continued, “and I feel I must look after him a little. I wonder if you have any pieces of wire or light springs, around? He has use for that sort of material.”

“Wire, springs!” Nancy heard the request and a joke, that the disappearing man might slide away on wires and springs, flashed humorously through her mind. But again she found no chance even to whisper the joke to Isabel, for there were still boys demanding change.

In the course of an hour, however, the youngsters were all “cleared out.” Their wants had been supplied, and the girls, with Sibyl, were chatting away about the first results of the sale.

“If they don’t go trying things out and then want us to change them,” worried Nancy. “I told them positively we would exchange just absolutely not—a—thing,” she declared, most emphatically.

“Let’s see how much we took in,” suggested Isabel. “I had no idea that a lot of small money could be so fascinating.”

“Indeed it is,” Sibyl rejoined. “I’ve had experience at college sales, and it always seemed to me the peanut money was the most interesting to handle.”

This brought on some talk of her college, for just as Nancy had guessed, she was a college girl. Finally, when the receipts were all counted and it was found that the boys, they who came in the first squad, had actually bought seventeen dollars worth of goods.

“It doesn’t seem possible!” Ruth exclaimed, “and just look at the bushels of pennies!”

“And we had better prepare for the next arrivals,” suggested Isabel. “The lake folks will be along presently on their morning drives.”

“And the early golfers returning from the links,” added Ruth. “Guess we better tidy things up a little. Those boys certainly can upset a place.”

Isabel had found a roll of picture wire and three small screen door springs. These Sibyl bought without giving the slightest hint of the possible use her father was apt to put them to. Neither Isabel nor Ruth, however, paid as much attention to the odd purchase as did Nancy.

“I do wonder,” Nancy remarked as Isabel tied up the goods for Sibyl, “what has become of Miss Townsend?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” exclaimed Sibyl. “She’s been quite ill.”

“No, I hadn’t,” said Nancy, considerately. “I’m so sorry. What has been the trouble?”

“Worry, chiefly, I guess,” and a sort of sigh seemed to accompany Sibyl’s words. “It was too bad she had such a dispute with her brother,” she continued, “and yet, they really didn’t seem to dispute, just to disagree, but they have both such old-fashioned, gentle natures that they consider it disgraceful to dissent from the views of loved ones. Oh, well!” this time the sigh was unmistakable, “I suppose even the most gentle can hardly expect to go through life without differences. I only hope they do not hold my daddy in any way responsible,” she said seriously.

“Why, how could they?” faltered Nancy, in honest bewilderment.

“Oh, of course they couldn’t,” replied Sibyl hastily, as if regretting her remark. “But you see, daddy and the old gentleman have been such close friends that Miss Townsend might fancy daddy influenced her brother. But I must be running along,” she added a little hurriedly. “I’m so glad to have met you, Nancy, and I hope your sale will be a tremendous success.”

“It surely will be,” chimed in Ruth, while Isabel and Nancy joined in the good-byes.

“Hasn’t she wonderful eyes!” was Nancy’s first remark following Sibyl’s departure.

“I got the surprise of my life,” declared Ruth, “when I saw Sibyl Sanders saunter in. There, that sounds like a new song, doesn’t it? But you know, girls, she is almost as mysterious as her dad, the way she comes and goes—”

“But doesn’t anyone up and ask them where they live?” asked Nancy in evident astonishment.

“Never get a chance,” chimed in Isabel. “If we were to go out now and follow her up the hill, I’ll venture to say we would get a good sample of the disappearing stunt—”

“But we haven’t time, dears,” chirped Nancy. “Look! Here come three autos. Now, ladies, step lively,” and the way they stepped was lively enough to be called trotting.

“Yes, sure enough,” Ruth agreed, “they are coming here, and they’re here!”