  No one was at home when Mary Louise returned from her visit to the store at Four Corners. What a splendid chance it was to write to Clifford Hunter to tell him about Tom Adams’ card tricks! With this piece of evidence, a clever lawyer ought to be able to clear Cliff of all suspicion. “Tom Adams probably left that pack of cards at the Smiths’ deliberately,” she wrote. “I feel almost positive now that he is the person who is starting the fires. He had the opportunity; each time one occurred, he was nowhere to be found. I think he is doing it at somebody else’s orders—for a sum of money. But I can’t find out who is paying him, and I feel rather certain it isn’t his father. “I intend to watch Tom Adams like a hawk for the next twenty-four hours, and as soon as I can find out who is responsible, I’ll wire the police. But in the meantime, Cliff, I think you ought to be freed, and I wish you and your lawyer would come back to Shady Nook.” She signed and sealed the letter and took it immediately to the box at the entrance to Shady Nook, where the rural postman collected mail each day. Then, feeling that a fine piece of work had been accomplished, she put away the groceries and started the evening meal. But Mary Louise made no mention of her suspicions to the family that evening, nor did she say anything about her letter to Cliff. She’d tell Jane later, when they were alone, for there was no need of bringing up the subject of the fires again in front of her mother. If Cliff did return, it would be a pleasant surprise for Mrs. Gay—and the other inhabitants of Shady Nook. Mary Louise’s only regret would be David McCall’s absence: she would love to have the pleasure of saying, “I told you so!” to that cocksure youth. There was plenty to talk about at the supper table that evening, without bringing up the mystery of the fires. Jane had to tell all about the new young men she had met and the fun they had had over at the Reeds’. She thought it was a crime for Mary Louise to have missed it all. “But I had a caller,” announced her chum. “In a different way, my afternoon was just as thrilling as yours!” “You don’t mean David McCall, do you?” snapped Jane. “Oh no. He’s gone home. No—not a man. A girl. Adelaide Ditmar.” “Adelaide Ditmar! What in the world did she want?” “I’ll tell you,” replied Mary Louise. “And you must listen, too, Mother, for I want your advice.” And she proceeded to outline the proposition which the young woman had made to her. “I want to go into it,” she concluded. “I think it means everything to Adelaide. Lots of people have been poorer than the Ditmars at one time or another, but I don’t believe anybody has ever been much more desperate.” Jane frowned. “I don’t see why we have to give up our vacation and work hard just because a married couple can’t get on!” she objected. “You don’t have to,” replied Mary Louise. “But it happens I want to. And I think Mabel Reed will be keen to help—if you don’t want the job, Jane. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll run right over there after supper.” “Of course I don’t mind,” laughed Jane. “Anybody that’s ambitious has a right to work! But you better wait a while, Mary Lou. The Reeds may be over at the hotel, eating their dinner.” “No, they’re not,” put in Mrs. Gay. “Mrs. Reed told me herself that they couldn’t afford to go over there oftener than once a week—with all that family.” “You don’t mind my doing it, Mother?” inquired Mary Louise. “No, dear—provided you don’t get too tired. But if you do, you can easily stop. Will you promise me that?” “Of course I will, Mother,” agreed the girl as she started to gather up the dishes. “Stop that!” protested Jane. “I may not be ambitious, but I’m not going to let you get the supper and wash the dishes both. Freckles and I are clearing up tonight. You run along, Mary Lou!” “Suits me!” agreed her chum as she hurried off to the Reeds’ cottage. Mabel Reed listened to the proposition with delight and immediately consented to help. “Let’s go right around Shady Nook now,” she suggested, “and get the people to sign up for the meals. Then we’ll have something definite to take to Adelaide.” “You are a business woman, Mabel!” exclaimed Mary Louise admiringly. “But we’d have to quote prices, wouldn’t we?” “Make it the same as Flicks’ used to be—forty cents for lunch and sixty for dinner. The Royal charges a dollar for lunch and a dollar and a half for dinner. So everybody would save a dollar and a half a day by eating with us!” “Frazier is going to hate us,” remarked Mary Louise. “Of course he is. But who cares?” “He’ll huff and he’ll puff——” muttered Mary Louise, half to herself. “Well, come on—let’s go. I’ve got a pencil and paper.” “You always have a pencil and paper with you,” observed Mabel. “Is that because you expect to become a writer?” “No, I don’t believe I’ll ever be a writer, Mabel. I’d rather do things than write about them.” She wished she might tell the other girl what she had accomplished earlier in the summer at Dark Cedars with the help of her notebook and pencil, but that would seem too much like bragging. Besides, the only way to succeed in life is to forget about the past and keep looking forward. “Write down seven Reeds and four Gays,” said Mabel. “And two Ditmars. That makes thirteen already.” “But four of those won’t eat till the others are served, so we’ll need only nine chairs so far.... Now, let’s see. Where shall we go first?” “Let’s go right up the line of the cottages. Hunters’ is gone, of course, so we’ll try the Partridges. They have four in their family.” “Mrs. Partridge is a great friend of mother’s,” observed Mary Louise. “I think they will sign up.” The two girls walked a quarter of a mile up the private road that wound along beside the river, past the Hunters’ grounds, on to the pleasant five-room cottage that belonged to the Partridges. As there were no young people in this family, Mary Louise did not know them so well, but she felt sure that they would like the idea of having their meals on this side of the river. Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, and the two sisters who spent the summer with them, were just coming across the river in Mr. Frazier’s launch when the girls reached the scene. The hotelkeeper himself was running the motorboat. Mary Louise smiled at them and waited until the launch had puffed off before she explained her plan. Mrs. Partridge was delighted. “Of course we’ll come—for our dinners,” she agreed immediately. “My husband is going back to the city, except for week-ends, and we three women would just as soon have a bite of lunch at home. But I hate this bothering with a boat every night for dinner, although Mr. Frazier has been most kind.” “Then we can count on you three?” asked Mary Louise in delight. “Yes—and Mr. Partridge too on Saturdays and Sundays,” added the woman. Mary Louise marked down the names, and the two girls continued on their way, pleased with their success. “That’s three more paying guests,” she said, “totaling twelve!” “It’s thrilling!” exclaimed Mabel. It was even more thrilling to find the Robinsons just as enthusiastic about the plan, adding four more names to their list. “That’s all!” sighed Mabel. “Unless we go over to the Royal and try to get the Smiths.” “They wouldn’t come,” returned Mary Louise, “because they’d have nowhere to sleep. And besides, they don’t care about economy. They have piles of money.” “True. But I’ll tell you whom we can get, Mary Lou: those four Harrisburg boys. They can put up tents in the woods and eat at Ditmars’. They’ll love it, and besides, it will make it possible for them to stay at Shady Nook a lot longer. Their money will go so much farther than it would at the Royal.” “That is an idea, Mabel!” cried Mary Louise. “And maybe they’d be willing to eat at a second table, so we shouldn’t have to get extra chairs.” “The very thing. Sixteen chairs isn’t so bad. I guess the Ditmars have four, and we each have a card-table set. I suppose the Robinson boys can knock together a bench and some chairs for a porch table.” “Adelaide Ditmar suggested getting Tom Adams to do it.” “Then we’d have to pay him! No, I think we better ask the Robinson boys or Horace Ditmar.” The girls reached the bungalow and found the young couple waiting for them on the porch. Horace Ditmar was a good-looking man of perhaps twenty-five—not much older than David McCall, Mary Louise thought—and Adelaide was scarcely twenty. They were a handsome pair: it was too bad if they weren’t happy. Adelaide’s eager blue eyes were gazing into Mary Louise’s as if she could not wait for her answer. “Mabel and I have decided to help you, Adelaide,” announced Mary Louise immediately. “We just stopped at all the bungalows to find out how many people we can get to promise to come to the meals. We have sixteen for dinners and thirteen for lunches—besides all of us who will be working.” “Sixteen!” repeated the young woman in delight. “Oh, Mary Lou, I knew everybody adored you! If I’d asked them myself they would all have refused.” “Now, dear!” remonstrated her husband, with such an affectionate look at his wife that Mary Louise was surprised. Maybe Horace Ditmar was all right after all! The girls sat down on the porch and plunged right into the discussion of all the details of carrying out the plan. The young man was surprisingly helpful and resourceful. As Adelaide had said, he was keenly interested. He not only promised to provide the needed tables and chairs, but he drew plans for placing them and for arranging the kitchen to utilize every bit of its space. He knew how to make home-made ice cream, he said, and he would drive over for all the supplies twice a week. In fact, he took so much of the work upon his own shoulders that the girls felt as if there was little for them to do in advance. They were to open for business the day after tomorrow. “And all we have to do is borrow some silverware and dishes,” remarked Mabel as the girls rose to go. “And engage Hattie Adams to wash them,” added Adelaide. “But I wish you wouldn’t go home yet, girls. I was hoping we might play a little bridge.” Her tone was wistful. Mary Louise knew how eager she was to make friends. “We’ll be over tomorrow,” replied Mabel, “but I think we ought to go now, because those Harrisburg boys are over at our bungalow, and I want to see whether I can’t get them to camp over here in the woods and take their meals with us. There are four of them.” “Good girl!” approved Horace. “Go right after the business!” So the girls said good-night and hurried off, full of excitement over their new adventure. All the young people who had gathered at the Reeds’ were enthusiastic too: they were tired of dressing up and going to the Royal Hotel, and enjoyed the informal intimacy of a small boarding house like Flicks’. The four young men from Harrisburg were only too glad to adopt Mabel’s suggestion, and planned to borrow the tents and start camping out the same day that the dining room was to open. During the entire evening the mystery of the fires was not mentioned. Indeed, nobody thought of them until Jane and Mary Louise were alone again, getting ready for bed. Then the former referred to them casually. “I guess you won’t have time for solving any more mysteries now, Mary Lou,” she remarked, “with this dining room on your hands.” “On the contrary,” returned her companion, “that is just one reason why I wanted to go into the thing. I was anxious to get to know Horace Ditmar better. And I’m practically convinced that he had nothing to do with the fires!” “Then who?” inquired Jane. “Rebecca Adams?” “No, not Rebecca. But I did get a new clue this afternoon, Jane. I learned something that made me suspicious about her brother Tom!” “Tom Adams? Why, Mary Lou, I thought you dismissed him long ago. When we learned that the Adams family are losing jobs by these fires.” “Yes, I know. But there’s something we don’t understand yet. Anyhow, Tom Adams does card tricks.” “Card tricks?” “Yes. He probably learned them from Cliff, and maybe swiped his cards to do them!” Jane’s eyes opened wide with understanding. “That pack of cards at the Smith fire!” she cried. Mary Louise nodded. “Exactly! That’s just what I’ve been thinking. So I wrote to Cliff this afternoon and told him about it.” Jane threw her arms around her friend and hugged her. “You are a wonder, Mary Lou!... But—but—can you prove anything?” “Not yet. But I mean to watch Tom Adams and see whether I can’t learn some more.” “If he really is guilty and finds out that you suspect him,” observed Jane, “he’ll take out his spite by setting fire to this bungalow. You better be careful, Mary Lou!” “I expect to be,” was the reply. “I’m looking for trouble!” But she hardly expected it in the form in which it came the following day. |
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