Before the girls could pull their faces straight a young man dashed up the steps and was in the store.

“Well, this is great!” he declared heartily. “I see by your window card you carry Mackinaw’s goods and I haven’t been able to get them nearer than the city.” He was addressing all three who stood together back of the counter like a trio in a comedy. The young man looked critically at the show goods in the show counter—the supply left by the travelling salesman.

“Here they are, sure enough!” he exclaimed. “Just give me a half dozen of those plugs, and of those dry flies, and a dozen of those bobbers—”

Nancy set out the boxes and the customer helped himself. He knew exactly what he wanted, and the girls marvelled at his quick selection of the fancy colored artificial minnows, the little feather flies, used to decoy the poor fish, and the bobbers, of which article Nancy had as pretty a selection as might have been in a really large shop.

“You don’t know what an accommodation this is,” went on the young man, putting down a twenty dollar bill to pay for his purchases. “No, don’t bother to put paper on the boxes,” he objected, as all three attempted to wrap the goods. “I’ll put them right in the car. You see, I’m at the fishing club over on the lake, and when we want supplies there we want them instantly,” he concluded.

And he was gone before the surprised clerks had time to realize that the sale had almost cleared out all the fancy tackle, and there were coming in at the door two elderly gentlemen, who looked exactly as if they would want fancy flies.

One of the gentlemen poked his head in the door so comically, the girls all giggled.

“Well!” he exclaimed. “So it is a shop. Thought it might be a Sunday School fair and I’d get roped in,” he chuckled, stepping inside cautiously. “Sorry, but I didn’t come to buy. Can you direct me to Professor Sanders’ office?” he asked, while politely removing his hat.

“His office? Why, he hasn’t any office that I know of,” faltered Nancy, surprised at the question.

“He has messages sent to the ticket office at the station,” volunteered Ruth.

“Oh, I see,” replied the man, seeming to “see” more than the girls did. “Then, we’ll go over to the station—”

So saying the man backed out of the door smiling pleasantly as he departed.

“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Nancy. “Our Disappearing Dick is going to have callers. I wonder if he’ll perform for them?”

“Those are important looking men,” Isabel commented. “Did you see their car?”

“Wasn’t it fancy?” agreed Ruth. “Perhaps Sibyl will get a ride home.”

“I don’t think you folks can be very good detectives around here,” Nancy criticized, “or you would have found out what so many people mean by saying that Mr. Sanders disappears.”

“Now, listen,” quoth Ruth, in a most confidential tone, “I don’t call myself sensational, and in fact, people at Long Leigh generally have the name of minding their own business; but there is something mighty queer about Mr. Sanders.” She paused while Nancy waited for further explanation. “He does not live in the old gray house, for father’s men went through the entire place the other day, he’s in real-estate you know,” she explained, “and there wasn’t a thing to show that the old house had been opened since they inspected it last.”

“Couldn’t he camp in the barn or somewhere outside the house?” queried Nancy.

“No; the barn was locked up tight as tuppence,” insisted Ruth. “But he seems to hang out somewhere on that hill, just the same,” she added.

“I know!” exclaimed Nancy. “He goes up in a tree with the wires and springs,” and she sprang up and down without either. “Some day I’m going up there and I bet I’ll solve the mystery,” she promised gaily.

“Let us know when you’re going, Nan,” suggested Ruth. “We wouldn’t want to have you swallowed up by—the fairies.”

“Say,” whispered Isabel, her eyes set in what looked like alarm, “do you know, I saw a little woman come up and down our side steps a half dozen times this morning—”

“Oh!” and Nancy laughed merrily. “That would be little Miss Manners, the dressmaker who lives in the tiny bungalow under our window. You see, Mother wouldn’t really let us keep store without some supervision. She’s pretty particular, and declares there is no telling who might pop in—”

“And hold us up for our cash box—!” Ruth added so mirthfully as to suggest a good time in the danger.

“Well, any how,” continued Nancy, “Mother insists that Miss Manners look in quite often to see that everything is all right. She’s as quiet as a mouse—”

“I should say she is,” Isabel confirmed. “In fact, I didn’t want to frighten you or I should have told you someone was sneaking in,” she added, folding up a tape line as she spoke.

“Oh, Miss Manners is so quaint, as Vera would say,” Ruth contributed, “that I think she ought to be a partner, if a silent partner, in the Whatnot Shop.”

“Yes,” agreed Nancy, “it does seem as if this shop should belong to little old people like Miss Townsend, and I guess that’s why Miss Manners is so interested. You see, girls, I’m still a very poor housekeeper, and our maid, Anna, won’t be back until fall. After I get tired playing store, I suppose,” and she sighed heavily, “I’ll be expected to start in playing house.”

“But if you run the shop as you have done this morning,” Isabel interposed, “don’t you suppose your mother will think you’re a real genius at business?” she inquired.

“You can’t fool my mother on geniuses,” replied Nancy, who like her companions was putting away the odds and ends of things that had been scattered in the morning’s adventure. “Mother is an expert, and she sort of knows—me.” This last was said in a way implying a very doubtful compliment for Nancy. “I’ve been almost a genius at art, for instance. When I was five years old I could draw a goose with my eyes shut.”

“How about it when your eyes were open?” asked Ruth, quizzically.

“It was usually a little fat pig, then,” Nancy admitted, amid an outburst of girlish laughter.

“Nancy,” interrupted Isabel, “here’s the ice cream man.”

“Ours,” declared Nancy. “Now we’ll whistle for Ted and his boys and shut up shop for lunch. Isabel, will you please open the side door? We’ll take a tray over to Miss Manners and then sit down and enjoy ourselves.”

“Here’s Ted and his friends now,” announced Ruth. “They seem to know it is ice cream time.”

“That will save trouble,” Nancy remarked. And presently the big sale was all but forgotten in preparations for the feast of ice cream, with other suitable summer lunch supplies.

Isabel took an attractive tray over to solicitous and attentive Miss Ada Manners, while Nancy and Ruth attempted to satisfy the demands of Ted and his ice cream loving friends. The noon day was much warmer than the morning had indicated, and this coupled with the sale excitement, went far to make the little party a tremendous success, just as Mrs. Brandon had planned it to be.