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 adjusted, the door was padlocked, and a small heap of sand had
drifted in on the veranda.

Leslie pointed to the sign-