embarrassing pause. “I paint. I have rented a houseboat out where I can be alone and have quiet. I do not need people around me. I have Tania, my dog, and my paints, and so I am happy.” He talked in a jerky fashion, as though translating from a foreign tongue, as he went on.

Sim, always the most loquacious of the three, volunteered the information that they were visiting Terry and her mother, that they were fast friends, and added, in a little burst of indignation, that of course they would not bother him or attempt to break up his “quiet.” The girls frowned at her, but Sim was ever high-spirited.

At Reilly’s garage, the only one in the sleepy village, they set him down after he had thanked them charmingly, and they continued on their way. They had to go back again to the main road a short distance, for the house, gayly called “Buckingham Palace” because it was so unlike the great palace, was on a neck of land reaching out between ocean and bay and south of the town.

“Queer fellow, didn’t you think, Arden?” Sim questioned, still wondering about their reluctant passenger.

“Mysterious would be a better word, I think. Really, I got that impression of him. Very mysterious, as if he had something to hide.”

“Rather fond of himself, I’d say,” Terry flung in. “We won’t bother him. He’ll be quite alone on that old houseboat, and I hope the water rats find his best cheese.”

“He was a little strange,” Arden reasoned, ignoring Terry’s joke. “Quite different, I expect, from the usual village Romeo, eh, Terry?”

“That dog, too, I’d hate to have that animal mad at me,” Sim remarked, pulling a blonde curl into further prominence from under her beret.

“I can’t imagine what a man like that would come to this forsaken place for,” Terry mused. “Heaven knows it’s quiet enough, if that’s what he wants, but no scenery for painting. And wait until he sees that houseboat! It’s been tied up in the bay for years,” and she sighed comfortably. “Oh, well, as Sim says, let’s not worry about him. We’ll probably never see him again.”

“He said he was happy, but he didn’t look that way to me,” Arden went on. “I thought he looked rather sad, and we don’t even know his name. If that should ever matter.”

“Arden Blake!” Sim exclaimed, “if you make another mystery out of this simple incident, after all we’ve just gone through, I’ll never forgive you! I’m pos-i-tive-ly off mysteries for life.”

“Terry’s right. We’ll probably never see him again. He would certainly know how to hide himself and his dog,” Arden said slowly, and then, stepping on the gas, she drove as fast as she dared in the direction of “Buckingham Palace.”

CHAPTER II
A Man, a Dog, and a Girl

With almost startling suddenness, the little house affectionately known as “Buckingham Palace” popped into view as the car swung round a turn in the road.

A white, two-story house, with brilliant orange awnings, that Terry’s father had bought when Oceanedge had promised to become a thriving seashore resort. But the “plans of men” had gone “agley,” and Oceanedge had never developed beyond Terry’s house, the beginnings of a boardwalk, and a bridge over the small inlet of Bottle Bay.

Arden kept her hand pressed down on the horn, and amid the noise of the horn and Terry’s shrill whistle with forefingers between her lips, announced their arrival.

“Yoo-hoo!” Terry called and once more gave her famous loud whistle.

It was a feat much admired by the other two, who, although they had practised faithfully under Terry’s instruction, were never able to produce as much as a single “toot” from carefully pursed lips.

Terry’s mother, a woman still young and pleasant enough to be Terry’s sister, appeared in the doorway and waved a hand. The girls jumped out and hurried toward her.

“Oh, Mother!” Terry exclaimed, throwing her arms affectionately around her proud parent, “it’s so good to be here. We made wonderful time and never a puncture, even.”

“It’s good to have you here, too,” Terry’s mother replied and with a welcoming smile kissed Arden and Sim.

“I’m glad you arrived safely, for I think we will get a storm before night, it has been so sultry today,” she went on, and as though to give credence to her words a low, angry rumbling was heard in the west.

“But come in and get comfortable. You must be starved. We have only a cold supper, for we were not sure just when you’d get here. Ida,” she called, “the girls are here, we can begin whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’m, Miz Landry, right away,” came from the kitchen while the girls were on their way upstairs.

The house was not elaborate. One of those many rubber-stamp houses, four bedrooms upstairs, maid’s room downstairs type, but it was bright and airy, and to the somewhat weary travelers it represented all that could be desired.

They quickly changed from “city clothes” into cooler cotton dresses and slipped fresh shoes on stockingless feet. They hoped before their visit was over to have acquired a tan that would defy detection of bare legs and make true skin stockings look smarter still.

Downstairs in the dining room Ida had made a noble attempt at a cold supper. Potato salad, lettuce and sliced tomatoes, cold meat, and lemonade that made a great hit. They ate hungrily and drank glass after glass of the cool drink as the air became more dense and the storm more imminent.

Rolls of thunder growled nearer now, and the sky was dark and threatening. Mrs. Landry lit the low-hung chandelier over the table; and then, all at once, with a deafening clap of thunder, the storm was upon them.

“Terry, the windows upstairs!” Mrs. Landry called. “And, Sim and Arden, see if you can pull up the porch awnings. Ida and I will take care of the windows here.”

Terry dashed upstairs, and Sim and Arden made for the screen-enclosed porch.

A cool, almost cold, wind whipped their hair in their eyes and snapped the awnings viciously as they hurriedly worked.

“Isn’t it glorious, Sim?” Arden asked, pulling with all her might at an awning rope.

“I don’t like it,” Sim answered and gave a little squeal at a flash of lightning.

“Look at the ocean—it’s all gray, and just a little while ago it was so blue. Oh, dear, Sim, let’s pull together!” Arden wrapped the rope around her hand, and they both tugged vigorously.

The awning went up with a rush, and the girls hurried to the next one. Upstairs a window slammed as Terry went on with her job. The sky was as dark as night now, and the lightning flashed with increased brilliance; sometimes in flaming vastness, then again in piercing arrows.

Suddenly the rain came. Dashing down in silver sheets, it quickly drove Arden and Sim inside. Terry came running downstairs, and they all gathered in the living room, where they could watch the fury of the storm over the ocean.

“Are you frightened, girls?” Terry’s mother asked, as she saw Sim wince at a thunderclap. “You mustn’t be. The storm will follow the bay right out to sea. They never last long when it gets as black as this. It’s mostly wind, and it blows out quickly.”

“I love it,” Arden replied. “I think it’s beautiful. But it makes us seem so small and....” She hesitated. A new noise could be distinguished above the roar of the storm. The little group, with one accord, turned to a side window from whence the