“Yeah,” she drawled, stooping for her sweater. “I learned in the ocean.” That was all she said.
“Do you live here, at Oceanedge?” Arden asked next.
“Not right here,” replied the swimmer. “I live on the other side of the bay with my father, but I come here to swim.” After such a long speech she again seemed ready to run away.
“We live up there,” Terry volunteered, indicating the house, the roof of which could be seen above low pines. “We’re just here for the summer. Do you live here all year?”
“Yes, I’m a native,” their new friend went on in a rather bitter tone. “I live, if you can call it that, with my father. He’s a crabber and a worn crab himself. What’s that oil for?” Arden was dabbing a bit on a rather red arm.
“To make us tan; want some?” asked Sim kindly.
The girl gave a little laugh. “My father would tan me if he caught me using anything like that. He says I’m so homely now, there’s no use making me worse.”
“Oh, but you’re a marvelous swimmer. I wish you’d swim with me some day,” said the sympathetic Sim. “What’s your name? Mine is Bernice Westover, but everyone calls me Sim,” she finished affably.
“Melissa Clayton,” the girl answered. “That’s a pretty thing.” She indicated a brilliantly painted wooden bracelet on Sim’s arm, the kind sponsored by the large department stores as being just the thing for beach wear because, perhaps, you couldn’t forget you had it on.
“Do you like it? You may have it,” Sim replied and slipped it off her arm. “Here, I’ve got lots of things like these, and you might like to have this.”
“Oh, can I really? I’d love it! I’ve never had a pretty thing like this in my whole life. My father thinks such things are no good and only give me wrong ideas. But I’ll take care of it always.” Melissa took the bracelet and slipped it on her tanned muscular arm, looking at it pathetically.
She wore an old, dark-blue jersey bathing suit, a little too large for her, and a white canvas belt. She had no bathing cap on, and her wet hair was beginning to curl a little as it dried in the sun. She looked at the wooden bracelet as though it were as precious as a diamond circlet, turning it around and around to admire it. A slow smile spread over her tanned face.
“Do you go to school here in the winter, Melissa?” Arden asked. This wild creature who swam like a sea nymph and smiled at a cheap wooden bracelet was something different and “terribly interesting,” in Arden’s opinion.
“I did go to school, but my father took me out last year when I turned fourteen; said I’d be getting ideas. So I don’t go any more,” Melissa replied, her white teeth gleaming and sparkling in her darkened face.
“But what do you do all winter when it’s cold and there’s no crabbing?” Sim inquired. “We’re asking you an awful lot of questions; do you mind?”
“No, I don’t mind. I don’t very often get a chance to talk to anybody. Pa never says a word, hardly,” the girl went on.
Arden, Terry, and Sim watched her sympathetically as she stood first on one foot then on the other in a nervous way, smoothing out the sand beneath her feet. They had never met a girl like her, and pitied her at once when they learned of her lonely life. But, sorry as they were, they realized that there was something about her that was different, a hint of a mind not as keenly alert as theirs. She was so slow to respond to their advances.
“Why did you run away the other night in the storm?” Terry bravely asked. “We wanted you to come in.”
“I was afraid. I just wanted to look at you all in the nice bright room, but when you saw me—”
“Melissa!” thundered a voice behind them.
They all started and turned. A shabbily dressed man was standing back of them on the sand. They had not heard his footsteps. Had he purposely crept up on Melissa?
“What are you doing there?” he asked roughly.
“Nothing, Pa—I was just swimmin’.” Melissa seemed to swerve visibly, and she looked nervously down at the bracelet Sim had given her.
“What’s that you got? Haven’t I told you not to take things?”
“I didn’t take it, Pa. She gave it to me. I never even asked.”
“Give it back, right away, and come along home! You’ve been fooling around here long enough. Quick, now!”
Melissa’s childish blue eyes pleaded to be allowed to keep the bracelet, but her father, reading her thought, stepped forward and pulled it from her arm.
“Here, miss—I don’t allow Melissa to take things,” the gruff man growled.
“Oh—but it’s nothing,” faltered Sim. “Please—”
Clayton ignored her entirely, as he did Arden and Terry. They might not have been there, for all the attention they were given. Their attempt at helping Melissa went for naught.
Melissa pulled the gray sweater on over her still wet bathing suit and, smiling ruefully, followed her father, who had begun plodding up the beach. She did not look back but plodded along herself, trying to keep up with his big steps but, apparently, not intending to walk beside him.
The girls watched the retreating figures. Clayton was talking earnestly, now and then flinging out a hand in gesture and turning to shake his fist at his daughter, watching her closely as he tramped on.
“What a mean man!” Sim exclaimed, fingering the returned bracelet. “That poor child must have a rotten time.”
“He certainly was a gruff old fellow,” Arden agreed. “But did it strike you there was anything strange about that girl?”
“Only that she seemed so awfully scared. Like a kitten or stray dog. And I imagine she wanted to make friends,” Terry replied.
“I hope that man is kind to her. I hate people to be unhappy,” Sim remarked. “I’d better not begin to pity her, or I won’t enjoy myself, and I so want to do that.” She smiled appreciatingly at Terry, and then, taking the cork from the bottle of cocoanut oil, coated her pink skin again before starting for another dip.
CHAPTER V
The Stranger
The water was too cold for a long swim, perhaps because of the violent storm of the night before, and the girls did not stay in long. Sim, who loved swimming above all other sports, had to come out reluctantly, as she, too, felt cold. They dried themselves and raced back to the house to dress.
It was late afternoon when they were finally dressed and sitting once more on the porch of “Buckingham Palace.”
“It’s lovely here, Terry,” Arden remarked looking dreamily at the ocean.
“I hope you won’t get tired of it. As you know by now, there’s really nothing to do. Swimming, rowing, walking, and fishing if you care for it. But no country clubs. One movie that’s better left alone, and a tiny village,” Terry explained at length.
“Oh, but you’re forgetting our Russian friend and the wild girl of the swamps.”
Sim spoke up. “Not to mention the hard-hearted father and the ferocious wolfhound and the swimming. Don’t you worry, we won’t be bored. What I like best is the complete absence of mystery.” This was so pointed, the remark made a good joke.
“How about your theory that Dimitri is a spy and that Melissa is a kidnapped heiress?” Arden asked Sim, who was lazily swaying on the porch swing.
“Well, I do think he’s queer, and I may be right after all. It’s not natural for a man as young as he is to want to be alone unless he’s hiding something from somebody,” Sim insisted.
“Perhaps he is. But I find Melissa more interesting. Seemed to me that man she called ‘Pa’ had hypnotized her. And how mean of him not to let her keep the bracelet,” Terry remarked. “Just plain mean!”
As if that brought up different theories in each mind, their conversation dragged. The swim and the row in the morning left them feeling pleasantly weary and completely satisfied. Healthy fatigue was the real answer.
Sim moved back and forth in the rustic swing, while Terry and Arden gazed dreamily out to sea, where the dying sun turned white clouds to pink and painted th
e water a deep blue in the miracle of sunset.
They never even realized that a car was coming rapidly down the road behind the house, raising billows of sandy dust, until it stopped with screeching brakes at the back gate of Terry’s house.
“Who’s that?” Sim asked, as Sim would.
“I haven’t the least idea, little one,” Terry answered. “Unless it’s some more spies or kidnapers.”
“Let’s go see,” Arden suggested. “May we?”
But they were saved the trouble, for a woman was striding up the sand-edged path to the porch. She was dressed in black satin with a huge silver fox scarf, and glittering earrings showed beneath a small satin turban. She had dark eyes, and her lips were a scarlet gash. The girls waited apprehensively.
“I beg your par-r-don,” the woman began. “Have you a houseboat around here? He calls it—” she fumbled in a handbag and taking out a paper looked at it closely—“he calls it Merry Jane. Can you tell me how to reach it?”
“There is a houseboat down the bay, if that’s the one you mean,” Terry answered. “It is, I imagine, the only one around here.”
“No other houseboats?” the caller asked, showing white even teeth, pretty in spite of the carmined lips.
“No, only this one,” Terry told her. “But I didn’t know it had a name.”
“Then that must be it, my dear. Can you tell me how to reach it?”
“You’ll have to go back through the village, then along a swampy road to the edge of the bay. The road is rather bad because of the rain last night.”
“Through the village? Is there no other way? I did not understand one had to go through the village,” the woman remarked vaguely.
“Unless you go by boat. I don’t know of any other way of getting there,” Terry answered.
The woman seemed to be considering. She tapped her hand impatiently on the letter she had taken from her purse, and looked around her as though trying to get her bearings and to make some decision.
“But how can I get a boat? It is very important that I get over there. I don’t suppose—I would be glad to pay you—if— Could you take me over? Have you a boat?” the dark woman asked abruptly.
“Yes,” answered Terry. “I could take you over, and of course I’d be glad to do it.”
“Can we go at once?” the woman asked nervously.
“I guess so,” Terry replied. “Tell Mother I’ll be right back, will you, Arden? I won’t be long.”
“Of course, Terry. But don’t you want—” Arden asked in a meaning, unfinished way.
For answer Terry turned aside from their strange caller and winked understandingly at Arden and Sim. Arden did not press her point further, but nodded her head and said no more. Both were thinking: “Now for another adventure!”
Terry quickly went for the oars and, with the dark flashy woman following, made for the rowboat. The passenger got in gracefully despite her extremely high-heeled shoes and sat in the stern while Terry pushed off.
“There it is, down there.” Terry pointed to the moored boat where Dimitri lived.
“That?” her passenger asked incredulously. “That—that thing? Dimitri is an odd one. Fancy him living there!” she sneered openly.
Terry maintained an embarrassed silence and rowed more vigorously. They soon reached the side of the houseboat, and at the sound of the oars Tania appeared on the narrow little deck, barking furiously.
“Dimitri! Dimitri!” the woman called. “Have you still got that beast? Tie her up. I’m coming aboard.”
Dimitri, in answer to the call, opened the door and came outside. He looked almost shocked as he saw Terry and her queer passenger, and for a minute seemed awe-struck. Then he smiled at Terry, for it was impossible to be heard above Tania’s wild barking. He shrugged his shoulders and grasping Tania by the collar had literally to pull the huge dog away from the edge of the boat.
Terry came closer and grasped the side of the houseboat that the woman had spoken of as Merry Jane. She waited until Dimitri returned without Tania. He leaned down and, holding the woman by the hand, assisted her to climb aboard. Then, turning to Terry, smiling queerly, remarked:
“I don’t know whether to thank you, my friend, or—”
Terry’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.
“Dimitri,” the woman said between shut teeth. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. Come inside, Olga,” he replied, and nodded to Terry as he held open the door for his apparently uninvited guest.
Terry knew at once she had no place in this strange little drama and prepared to leave. From the houseboat came the sound of a feminine voice raised in anger. But Terry could not understand the words beyond a pleading “Dimitri.”
She rowed quickly away, back to safer if not saner surroundings.
CHAPTER VI
The Unwelcome Guest
Terry bent to the oars, pulling hard and taking long strokes with the blades just missing the water. She could row with quite some skill when she particularly wanted to, and now she could scarcely wait to get back to tell Sim and Arden what had happened.
As she reached the little dock where they tied up their boat, she looked around and saw Arden and Sim inspecting the flashy green roadster which the woman “Olga” had left parked near their back door. Terry put her finger to her lips and whistled shrilly. Arden and Sim at once came running to meet her.
“What happened, Terry?—surely something?” Arden asked, climbing into the boat. Sim followed, and all three settled down to talk on the quiet water’s edge.
“Yes, lots!” Terry exclaimed. “He was furious when he saw her, and Tania was wild.”
“Who was furious—what about?” Sim wanted to know.
“Dimitri, stupid,” Terry went on. “When he saw whom I had in the boat I never saw a man look so mad.”
“What did he do?” Arden asked with great interest and hopeful expectancy.
“Oh, he was polite enough in a cold way,” Terry told them with a show of relish. “He tied up Tania and said he didn’t know whether or not to thank me. I heard him call her ‘Olga.’ When I left they were jabbering away as though they were mad at each other. Talking Russian, I guess,” Terry said rapidly. The sudden appearance of the spectacular woman had given them more excitement than mere words might explain.
“Why do you suppose she didn’t want to go through the village?” Sim inquired cannily.
“It looks to me as if she didn’t want to be seen,” Arden ventured.
“She seemed to know the artist pretty well,” Terry resumed. “She spoke as if it was queer that he should live in the houseboat.”
“Let’s go back to the house, the mosquitoes are beginning to bite,” Sim said, slapping her stockingless leg. “We can talk better there, anyway. Our voices might carry over the water.”
They all agreed this was a good plan and scrambled out of the boat. Terry tied it up and took the oars, and they went back to the porch.
It was almost dusk now, and the bay was hardly rippled by a land breeze that carried the annoying little mosquitoes with it. The porch offered the most comfortable place, screened in and commodiously furnished. Once there, the girls got ready for a “good talk,” and presently Terry’s mother joined them.
“I wouldn’t make too much out of this,” she warned. “You girls will become gossips if you don’t be careful,” she laughed.
“But, Mother,” Terry insisted, “he was so mad, and Tania was quite wild with rage. There must be something wrong about it.”
“Tania is a nervous dog, she barks at everyone,” Mrs. Landry remarked.
“She knows us now. I don’t think she’d bark at us ever again,” Terry decided rather triumphantly.
As though to prove this assertion, at that very moment Tania came bounding up the path. Her beautiful silky fur was coated with mud from the marsh, and water was dripping from her as the dog pranced along. She reached the screen door and gave a little “woof,” asking to come in.
Terry and Sim were laughing so hard they could do nothing to help, and Arden rolled over and buried her face in her hands. It was so sudden and so funny.
“Tania!” called Mrs. Landry sharply. “Stop it! Come here at once!”
At the sound of her name, Tania looked up and walked with her usual dignity to Terry’s mother, obediently resting her head in the woman’s lap. Mrs. Landry rubbed the silky ears and gently scolded the dog, while Arden scrambled to her feet and attempted to brush off the mud.
“See, Mother,” Terry said as she stopped laughing. “I told you she knew us.”
At that Terry reached out a hand to pet the animal and then exclaimed in surprise: “Look! Tania has a note under her collar!”
Quickly Terry pulled it out and began to read.
“It’s from Dimitri,” she announced as her chums waited to hear. “He wants to know if we can go back and get his guest, as his boat has sprung a leak and he can’t use it. Oh, Mother, may we go?”
“You’ll have to, I guess, since you took her over there,” said Mrs. Landry somewhat reluctantly. “But not all of you. With Tania and your queer lady passenger the boat would be too crowded. Just two of you should go, I think.”
“Oh, Mother, can’t we all go?” Terry begged, reasoning that she, as the best rower, must necessarily go, and hating to leave one of her chums at home.
“No, I think it would be too crowded. I’d worry. Why don’t you toss a coin and decide which one is to go with you?” Mrs. Landry suggested. She always worked with the girls, never against them.
Terry dashed into the house and, coming out, cried: “Heads Arden goes—tails Sim does.” She flipped the coin into the air and caught it on the back of one hand, cleverly, covering it for a moment with her other hand. Then she announced: “You win, Arden. It’s too bad, Sim dear. But you can take care of Mother, and we’ll come back just as soon as we can and tell you every little thing; won’t we, Arden?”
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