grandfather on her mother's side. But if that is the case, who is the
'Hon. Arthur Ramsay'?" questioned Phyllis.

"Perhaps her father or her other grandfather," ventured Leslie.

"That's possible; but I wish I had found out from Aunt Sally if she knew
the name of the grandfather who is ill. That might explain something. I
wish I had asked her at the time. I believe I'll go for the broilers
myself to-morrow and see if I can find out any more in some way that
won't make her suspect," declared Phyllis.

The next morning Phyllis was as good as her word. She went down to the
village alone, as Leslie had matters that kept her at home that day. But
she came flying back breathless, to impart her news.

"I managed to lead the conversation around--to that grandfather
business--again," panted Phyllis, to Leslie, when she had induced her
chum to come down to the beach for a moment, "and what do you think she
said? That his name was _'Ramsay'!_ Now what do you make of _that?_ If
his name is Ramsay, he can't be the man who hired that bungalow--and
we're all on the wrong track!"

"No, it doesn't prove that at all," insisted Leslie. "The one who rented
the bungalow, no matter what his name was, certainly had an envelop in
his possession addressed to _Ramsay_. So you see there's a connection
somewhere!"

Phyllis had to admit that this was so. "But here's something else
stranger than that--what do you think of my having been introduced to and
becoming acquainted with our 'exclusive young friend'?"

Leslie certainly opened her eyes in astonishment. "You're surely joking!"
she exclaimed.

"No, positive truth! It happened this way: I was just about to leave with
my chickens under my arm, when in walks this precious Miss Ramsay, right
into the room. I could see she was prepared to turn on that cold stare
effect again, but I never so much as noticed her existence. And then Aunt
Sally bustled in,--she'd been upstairs a minute,--and blest if she didn't
introduce us after all! Said the most complimentary things about yours
truly, and how I was staying at my bungalow on the beach; and then she
mentioned you, too, and told about you being in the 'Rest Haven'
bungalow. It struck me that our young lady sort of pricked up her ears at
that (though it _may_ have been only imagination). But she just said
'How-de-do,' rather carelessly--didn't offer to shake hands or anything.

"I muttered something about it being a pleasant day and hoping she