tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">239

It had been a magnificent afternoon, so wonderful that Leslie hated to break the spell. Reluctantly she unrolled herself from the Indian blanket, from which she emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon, draped it over her arm, picked up the book she had not once opened, and turned for a last, lingering look at the ocean. A lavender haze lay lightly along the horizon. Nearer inshore the blue of sea and sky was intense. A line of breakers raced shoreward, their white manes streaming back in the wind. Best of all, Leslie loved the flawless green of their curve at the instant before they crashed on the beach.

“Oh, but the ocean’s wonderful in October!” she murmured aloud. “I never had any idea how wonderful. I never saw it in this month before. Come, Rags!”

A black-and-white English sheep-dog, his name corresponding closely to his appearance, came racing up the beach at her call.

“Did you find it hard to tear yourself away from the hermit-crabs, Ragsie?” she laughed. “You must have gobbled down more than a hundred. It’s high time you left off!”

She started to race along the deserted beach, the dog leaping ahead of her and yapping ecstatically. Twice she stopped to pick up some driftwood.

“We’ll need it to get supper, Rags,” she informed the dog. “Our stock is getting low.”

He cocked one ear at her intelligently.

They came presently to a couple of summer bungalows set side by side about two hundred feet from the ocean edge. They were long and low, each with a wide veranda stretching across the front. There were no other houses near, the next bungalow beyond being about half a mile away.

With a sigh of relief, Leslie deposited the driftwood in one corner of the veranda of the nearest bungalow. Then she dropped into one of the willow rockers to rest, the dog panting at her feet. Presently the screen door opened and a lady stepped out.

“Oh! are you here, Leslie? I thought I heard a sound, and then it was so quiet that I came out to see what it meant. Every little noise seems to startle me this afternoon.”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Marcia! I should have called to you,” said Leslie, starting up contritely to help her aunt to a seat. “I hope you had a good nap and feel rested, but sometimes I think it would do you more good if you’d come out with me and sit by the ocean than try to lie down in your room. It was simply glorious to-day.”

Miss Marcia Crane shook her head. “I know what is best for me, Leslie dear. You don’t always understand. But I believe this place is doing me a great deal of good. I confess, I thought Dr. Crawford insane when he suggested it, and I came here with the greatest reluctance. For a nervous invalid like myself to go and hide away in such a forsaken spot as this is in October, just you and I, seemed to me the wildest piece of folly. But I must say it appears to be working out all right, and I am certainly feeling better already.”

“But why shouldn’t it have been all right?” argued Leslie. “I was always sure it would be. The doctor said this beach was noted for its wonderfully restful effect, especially after the summer crowds had left it, and that it was far better than a sanatorium. And as for your being alone with me—why I’m sixteen and a quite competent housekeeper, as Mother says. And you don’t need a trained nurse, so I can do most everything for you.”

“But your school—” objected Miss Crane. “It was lovely of your mother to allow you to come with me, for I don’t know another person who would have been so congenial or helpful. But I worry constantly over the time you are losing from high school.”

“Well, don’t you worry another bit!” laughed Leslie. “I told you that my chum Elsie is sending me down all our notes, and I study an hour or two every morning, and I’ll probably go right on with my classes when I go back. Besides, it’s the greatest lark in the world for me to be here at the ocean at this unusual time of the year. I never in all my life had an experience like it.”

“And then, I didn’t think at first that it could possibly be safe!” went on her aunt. “We seem quite unprotected here—we’re miles from a railroad station, and not another inhabited house around. What would happen if—”

Again Leslie laughed. “We’ve a telephone in the bungalow and can call up the village doctor or the constable, in case of need. The doctor said there weren’t any tramps or unwelcome characters about, and I’ve certainly never seen any in the two weeks we’ve been here. And, last but not least, there’s always Rags!—You know how extremely unpleasant he’d make it for any one who tried to harm us. No, Aunt Marcia, you haven’t a ghost of an excuse for not feeling perfectly safe. But now I’m going in to start supper. You stay here and enjoy the view.”

But her aunt shivered and rose when Leslie did. “No, I prefer to sit by the open fire. I started it a while ago. And I’m glad you brought some more wood. It was getting low.”

As they went in together, the girl glanced up at the faded and weather-beaten sign over the door. “Isn’t it the most appropriate name for this place!—‘Rest Haven.’ It is surely a haven of rest to us. But I think I like the name of that closed cottage next door even better.”

“What is it?” asked her aunt, idly. “I’ve never even had the curiosity to look.”

“Then you must come and see for yourself!” laughed Leslie, turning her aunt about and gently forcing her across the veranda. They ploughed their way across a twenty-foot stretch of sand and stepped on the veranda of the cottage next door. It was a bungalow somewhat similar to their own, but plainly closed up for the winter. The windows had their board shutters