"I'd have to bring Genevieve," she reminded Doris, "and she mightn't behave, and--well, I really guess I'd better not." "Perhaps tomorrow will be nice again," ended Doris, hopefully, as she hung up the receiver. But the morrow was not at all "nice." On the contrary, it was, if anything, worse than ever. After the morning mail had come, however, Doris excitedly called up Sally again. "You simply must come up here, if it's only for a few minutes!" she told her. "I've something awfully important that I just must talk to you about and show you." The "show you" was what convinced Sally. "All right," she replied. "I'll come up for half an hour. I'll leave Genevieve with Mother. But I can't stay any longer." She came, not very long after, and Doris rushed to meet her from the back porch, for she had walked up the road. Removing her dripping umbrella and mackintosh, Doris led her up to her room, whispering excitedly: "I don't know what you'll think of what I've done, Sally, but one thing I'm certain of. It can't do any harm and it may do some good." "What in the world is it?" questioned Sally, wonderingly. Doris drew her into her own room and shut the door. The communicating door to her mother's room was also shut, so they were quite alone. When Sally was seated, Doris laid a bulky bundle in her lap. "What is it?" queried Sally, wide-eyed, wondering what all this could have to do with their mystery. "I'll tell you," said Doris. "If it hadn't been for this awful storm, I'd have told you and asked you about it next morning, but I didn't want to over the 'phone. So I just took things in my own hands, and here's the result." Sally was more bewildered than ever. "What's the result?" "Why, just this," went on Doris. "That night, after we'd been to Slipper Point, I lay awake again the longest time, thinking and thinking. And suddenly a bright idea occurred to me. You know, whenever I'm worried or troubled or puzzled, I always go to Father and ask his advice. I can go to Mother too, but she's so often ill and miserable, and I've got into the habit of not bothering her with things. But Father's always ready, and he's never failed me yet. So I got to wondering how I could get some help from him in this affair without, of course, his suspecting anything about the secret part of it. And then, all of a sudden, I thought of--_books_! There must be _some_ books that would help us,--books that would give us some kind of information that might lead to a clue. "So next morning, very first thing, I sent a special delivery letter to Father asking him to send me down _at once_ any books he could find about _pirates_ and such things. And, bless his heart, he sent me down a whole bundle of them that just got here this morning!" Sally eyed them in a sort of daze. "But--but won't your father guess just what we're up to?" she ventured, dubiously. "He will ask you what you want them for, won't he?"