No one would believe her. They all came out of the water as Nancy arrived at the beach, and declined positively, to go in.

“I’m too—flustered,” she insisted. “My head is swimming now and it doesn’t matter about my heels.”

“But Nancy,” protested Marion Mason, one of the Upper Crust Hill girls, “how could you have heard anybody or anything in that open field? No bushes nor trees big enough to hide behind, just there.”

“It was the cat,” insisted Christine Berg, a friend of Marion’s. “There are queer cats—always have been—around the old stone house. First, the cat meaowed, just to entice you,” said Christine, wringing out the scant skirt of her black satin bathing suit. “And then, when she got you over there, she did the rest,” finished the very blonde girl with the lovely hazel eyes.

“Sort of ventriloquist,” added Isabel. “Well, at any rate, Nan, you have had a thrill. Vera, wouldn’t that constitute a thrill, don’t you think?”

“I’ll tell you what I think,” chimed in Ruth. “I think we had better hurry to dress or we shall be late for our lesson, and mine is cream-puffs today. Our family can eat cream-puffs until the puff—” But the girls, running up to the little bath houses, deprived Ruth of her audience, and also of the necessity of finishing her simile.

Nancy sat on the little board-walk edge of the row of houses, while the girls dressed. Ruth finished first and joined her there.

“Really, Nan?” she quizzed, in an under tone.

“Most certainly—really,” replied Nancy, seriously. “Do you suppose I would make that up for fun?”

“No, I don’t. It isn’t your brand of fun. But it’s mighty curious. Do you suppose we should all go up there right now, and go over every inch of the place—”

“Oh, no. We must go back to Manny and be good cooks,” Nancy answered. “Besides Ruth, she has my check and I’m anxious to see if it is still there, not just a dream check you know,” she smiled understandingly at Ruth.

Rather towsled from their bath, and the lack of time and tools for hair arrangements, the party of girls presently started off to take their domestic science lesson. Along the way they met and hailed a number of friends, for at bathing hour the lake drew folks from all parts of the village and its suburbs, but there was no time for tarrying as Miss Manners insisted upon promptness, and no one willingly ever disregarded her rule.

It was a merry little group that, all aproned and capped, listened first to Miss Manners explanation of rules and reasons, and then they themselves undertook the practical art of applying this knowledge.

But Nancy could not forget her experience. It had been so weird, so wild, in fact, to hear those noises coming from nowhere.

Ruth was beating the eggs light as air for her cherished cream puffs; Isabel was carefully creaming an equally dainty concoction in her middle-sized yellow bowl, and the other girls were being similarly and as practically engaged, when a shadow, a large manly shadow, darkened the glass that formed the upper part of the store door.

“A visitor!” exclaimed Marion, smoothing her cap at the risk of spoiling her batter.

Miss Manners stepped to the door to answer the knock.

“Mr. Sanders!” the girls whispered one to another, as they saw Miss Manners greet the caller.

“Maybe he’s going to inspect—” Christine began, but was stopped by Miss Manners speaking.

“Girls,” she said, in her best teacher voice, “Mr. Sanders has called to see if we can fill an order for him.”

“An order!” chorused the surprised pupils.

“Yes,” spoke up the one man among them. “The fact is, young ladies, I’m giving a little party up at Waterfall House, and I felt convinced that my attractions would be greatly increased if I could procure some—some confections from this famous little class,” he said.

Miss Manners was all but protesting. That her class could be called “famous” seemed to her rather too extravagant a statement.

“Yes, indeed,” went on the caller, while it must be admitted some of the girls were stifling giggles. “My daughter is coming up, and she thinks her college excels in this sort of thing.” His sweeping gesture seemed to include everything, even the girls. “And I would be mighty glad to show her what we can do in our little Long Leigh.”

Followed suggestions and questions, so heaped up that the mere wording of all the excitement amounted to little compared with its general effect. Finally, Mr. Sanders and Miss Manners went into a secret session, to outline the order, and the girls, who were supposed to go on with the lesson, in reality went on with the fun.

“Imagine!” chuckled Eleanor Dixon, “getting an order for fancy cakes! I’m going to make kisses—”

“Lady fingers would be more appropriate,” Isabel remarked sagely, “although, El, I have heard Miss Manners say, your biscuits are—splendid.”

“Tarts!” whispered Christine, shaking her long handled spoon, and making a comical face.

“Mac-a-roons!” came from Dorothy’s corner.

But Mr. Sanders was now preparing to leave, and Miss Manners was conducting him to the door, her face alight with the pleasant excitement. As the caller walked past Nancy he said to her in an undertone:

“Can I speak to you, just a minute, Nancy?”

Without answering Nancy followed him outside to the porch.

“I’m coming up to see your mother this evening,” he said, when their voices were beyond reach of the others. “I’ve been expecting to for some time, but now I must. Will you tell her, please? And be sure to be on hand yourself, you and Ted, for I’m about ready to disclose the long promised secret,” he finished, his eyes twinkling merrily as he spoke.

“Oh, all right, certainly,” faltered Nancy, not quite sure just what she was saying.

“Yes,” continued Mr. Sanders, “the summer, is going fast and I’m glad things have shaped themselves before we were, any of us, forced to separate.” He was patting his brown hands together gleefully.

“Would you mind if Isabel and Ruth came over? They’re my best friends and you can trust them,” ventured Nancy, surprised at herself for doing so.

“Certainly, by all means, have them come,” replied Mr. Sanders. “I see you anticipate a surprise, and you are generous enough to want to share it with your friends. That’s the spirit I like to see. Tonight it will be a sort of private performance,” he smiled as he said this, “but to-morrow night at the hotel I’m going to tell all who come. That’s what I want your cakes for,” he finished, moving down the low steps. “We’re going to have a celebration and—well, I’ll see you this evening,” he promised, hurrying off like a happy school boy.

There was little work done in the cooking lesson after that. Everybody was so excited at the prospect of filling a real order, that the entire class immediately set to planning just how it was to be filled.

It was Christine, however, who had what Ruth called “the inspiration.” After the class was dismissed she got the girls together, out of Miss Manner’s hearing, and made her suggestion.

“Let’s all come early,” she began, “very early. We’ll do our very best, of course, we can make wonderful cakes.”

“You can,” corrected Nancy.

“So can you, Nan,” Christine took time to say, “I’d like to see any one make a better sponge cake—”

“Oh, sponge cake,” scoffed Nancy.

“The very thing most needed to go with ice cream,” Christine hurried to say. “But listen—”

“We are,” said Ruth.

“We will take whatever money we get for the entire order, (we donate the materials, of course,) and with the money we’ll buy a gift for—Manny!” said Christine.

“Hurrah!” came a hushed hail, for there was danger of the plans being overheard.

However, Christine’s idea was enthusiastically received, and there was no possible doubt of the entire plan being successfully carried out.

Ruth remained with Nancy and so did Isabel, so that she readily found an opportunity to tell them of Mr. Sander’s message. They were as usual, putting things away, Miss Manners being obliged to leave early to give a private lesson to an invalid girl.

“And we are actually going to hear the secret,” gasped Nancy. “Girls, you don’t know how excited I am—”

“You don’t know how crazy I am,” added Ruth.

“And how wild I am,” put in Isabel. “Think we should have a doctor within call? Will it be overwhelming?” she joked.

“Better have a policeman,” suggested Ruth. “He may disclose some gems, or other valuables.”

“Here comes Ted,” Nancy interrupted, “and I know by his walk that he’s worried.”

Ted strode in, Nero close beside him, and as Nancy had intimated he did act worried.

“What’s the matter, Ted?” Ruth asked first.

“Matter? I’ve got to hide this dog. Folks want to take him away from me. Say he’s theirs,” Ted’s words fairly hissed his indignation.

“Who says so?” demanded Nancy belligerently.

“A man who came up to the old stone house,” answered Ted. “But Nero was Lou Peter’s dog and Lou gave him to me, and not all the money there is, is going to get my dog away from me.”

Ted’s voice was not very positive, and the girls, all three, assisted him in coaxing Nero out to the small door under the back porch, where he was finally made a prisoner, with several plates of food set before him to lighten the misery.

It surely would be disastrous for Ted to lose his dog.