ngly to do so. And ere the film actress lingeringly left
him to rejoin her company, Louise was some distance in advance.

His sisters were near her. Lawford could see them look at her most
superciliously, and the saucy Cecile said something that made Prue
laugh aloud.

Just beyond the Tapp girls was approaching a group of women and men.
Lawford recognized them as the Perritons and their friends. Lawford
had no particular interest in the summer crowd himself; but he knew the
Perritons were influential people in the social world.

With them was a majestic person the young man had never seen before.
Undoubtedly the "Lady from Poughkeepsie." Her pink countenance and
beautifully dressed gray hair showed to excellent advantage under the
black and white parasol she carried.

She stepped eagerly before the party, calling:

"Louise!"

Louise Grayling raised her head and waved a welcoming hand.

"What brings you forth so early in the morning, auntie?" she asked, her
voice ringing clearly across the sands.

There were at least four dumfounded spectators of this meeting, and
they were all named Tapp.

Lawford stood rooted to the sands, feeling quite as though the universe
had fallen into chaos. It was only L'Enfant Terrible who found speech.

"Oh, my!" she cried. "What a mistake! The movie queen turns out to be
some pumpkins!"

CHAPTER XXI

DISCOVERIES

Louise, knowing Aunt Euphemia so well, was immediately aware that the
haughty lady had something more than ordinarily unpleasant to
communicate. It was nothing about Uncle Amazon and the Shell Road
store; some other wind of mischance had ruffled her soul.

But the girl ignored Aunt Euphemia's signals for several minutes; until
she made herself, indeed, more familiar with the manner and personal
attributes of these new acquaintances. There was a Miss Perriton of
about her own age whom she liked at first sight. Two or three men of
the party were clean-cut and attractive fellows. Despite the fact that
their cottage had been so recently opened for the season, the Perritons
had already assembled a considerable house party.

"Louise, I wish to talk to you," at last said Mrs. Conroth grimly.

"True," sighed her niece. "And how extremely exact you always are in
your use of the language, auntie. You never wish to talk _with_ me.
_You_ will do all the talking as usual, I fear."

"You are inclined to be saucy," bruskly rejoined Aunt Euphemia. "As
your