"I was overboard--yes," responded Lawford, but rather blankly, for he was startled by the lightkeeper's statement. "What do you mean, Jonas?" to the lightkeeper. "Didn't Betty Gallup haul me inboard?"

"Bet Gallup--nawthin'!" exploded Jonas with disgust. "She handled that sloop o' yourn all right. I give her credit for that. But 'twas that there gal stayin' at Cap'n Abe's. Ye had her out with ye, eh?"

"Miss Grayling? Certainly."

"She's some gal, even if she is city bred," was the lightkeeper's enthusiastic observation. "An' quick! My soul! Ye'd ought to seen her kick off her skirt an' shoes an' dive after ye! I swanny, she was a sight!"

"I should think she would have been!" gasped Miss Louder with some scorn. "Goodness me, she must be a regular stunt actress!" and she laughed shrilly.

But Lawford gave her small attention. "Jonas, do you mean that?" he asked. "I thought it was Betty who saved me. Why, dad said this morning he was going to send the old woman a check. He doesn't much approve of me," and the heir of the Taffy King smiled rather grimly, "but as I'm the last Tapp----"

"He's glad ye didn't git done for _com_-pletely, heh?" suggested Jonas, and giggled. "I wouldn't for a minute stand in the way of Bet Gallup's gittin' what's due her. She did pick ye both up, Lawford. But, land sakes! ye'd been six fathoms down, all right, if it hadn't been for that gal at Cap'n Abe's."

"I--I had no idea of it. I never even thanked her," muttered Lawford.

"What can she think of me?"

But not even Miss Louder heard this. She realized, however, that the young man who she had been told was "the greatest catch at The Beaches"

was much distrait and that her conversation seemed not to interest him at all.

They went back toward the scene of the film activities. It was the hour of the usual promenade on the sands. Everybody in the summer colony appeared on the beach while the walking along the water's edge was fine. This promenade hour was even more popular than the bathing hour which was, of, course, at high tide.

Groups of women, young and old, strolled under gay parasols, or camped on the sands to chat. Brilliantly striped marquees were set up below some of the cottages, in which tea and other refreshments were served.

The younger people fluttered about, talking and laughing, much like a flock of Mother Carey's chickens before a storm.

There were several wagons over from the Haven, in which the small-fry summer visitors arrived and joined their more aristocratic neighbors.

The wagons stopped upon the Sh.e.l.l Road and the pa.s.sengers climbed down to the beach between two of the larger cottages.

The people at The Beaches had tried on several occasions to inclose the stretch of sh.o.r.e below their summer homes, and to make it a private beach. But even the most acquisitive of the town councilmen (and there were several of the fraternity of the Itching Palm in the council) dared not establish such a precedent. The right of the public to the sh.o.r.e at tide-water could not safely be ignored in a community of fishermen and clam diggers.

So the sh.o.r.e on this morning had become a gay scene, with the interest centering on the open air studio of the film company. Lawford saw Louise walking on alone along the edge of the water. Bane had been called into conference by the director.

Lawford could not well hasten his steps and desert Miss Louder, but he desired strongly 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 Sh.e.l.l 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 a.s.sembled 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 father is away I feel more deeply my responsibility in this matter. You are a wayward girl--you always have been."

"You don't expect me to agree with you on that point, do you, auntie?"

Louise asked sweetly.

Mrs. Conroth ignored the retort, continuing: "I am not amazed, after seeing your surroundings at the Silt place, that you should become familiar with these common longsh.o.r.e characters. But this that I have just learned--only this forenoon in fact--astonishes me beyond measure; it does, indeed!"

"Let me be astonished, too, auntie. I love a surprise," drawled her niece.

"Where were you yesterday?" demanded Aunt Euphemia sharply.

Louise at once thought she knew what was coming. She smiled as she replied: "Out fishing."

"And with whom, may I ask?"

"With Betty Gallup, Uncle Abram's housekeeper."

"But the man?"

"Oh! Mr. Tapp, you mean? A very pleasant young man, auntie."

"That is what I was told, Louise," her aunt said mournfully. "With young Tapp. And you have been seen with him frequently. It is being remarked by the whole colony. Of course, you can mean nothing by this intimacy. It arises from your thoughtlessness, I presume. You must understand that he is not--er----Well, the Tapps are not of our set, Louise."

"My goodness, no!" laughed the girl cheerfully. "The Tapps are real Cape Codders, I believe."

Aunt Euphemia raised her eyebrows and her lorgnette together. "I do not understand you, I fear. What the Tapps are by blood, I do not know. But they are not in society at all--not at all!"