"Wonder why he
hurried off that way?"
"Mad to think that Miss Charity was gone," answered Rod shrewdly. "Yo've
had that board long enough." He calmly possessed himself of Val's
drawing equipment. "Time to rest."
"Yes, grandfather," his cousin assented meekly.
Ricky slapped at a fly. "It seems to get hotter and hotter," she said.
From the breast pocket of her sport dress she produced a handkerchief
and mopped her face. Then she looked at the handkerchief in surprise.
"What's the matter? Some face come off along with the paint?" asked Val.
"No. But I just remembered what this is--our clue!"
"You mean the handkerchief we found in the hall? I wonder who--"
Rod reached up and took it out of her hand.
"Mine. Miss Charity gave me a dozen last Christmas."
"Then you left it there," Ricky laughed. "Well, that solves the last of
our mysteries."
"All present or accounted for," Val agreed as around the house came
Rupert and their tenant.
"So there you are," began Ricky. "And I'd like to know what you've been
doing all morning--"
"Would you really?" asked Rupert.
Ricky stared at him for a long moment and then she arose before
transferring her gaze to Charity. It might have been sunburn or the heat
Ricky had complained of which colored the cheeks of the Boston Biglow.
"Rod! Val!" cried Ricky. "Where are your manners?" As she sank forward
in a deep and graceful curtsy she added, "Can't you see that Rupert has
brought home his Marchioness?"
"Now that," said Val, as he held out his hand to the new mistress of
Pirate's Haven, "is what I call 'Ralestone Luck.
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