Guests were not in the habit of leaving their room doors wide open.
What she saw made her tip-toe softly away to a screen in the hall.
From her position she could watch the inmate of the room.
That room had been hired by the fat man with the big voice who often talked, and oftener disputed with Mr. Pendleton.
It was easy to touch a b.u.t.ton on the wall close beside her, and the bell-boy responded in a few seconds. The maid held up her finger, at the same time pointing toward the open door, and whispering:
"Sh--! Go quick and get Mr. Buffington. Tell him somebody is in his room. Don"t make a sound here. I"ll watch while you"re gone. Rush now!"
Mr. Buffington, big and ponderous, soon appeared, puffing like an engine. The maid saw him as he appeared above the stairs, and quickly held up her finger, as a signal to him to make no noise.
Puzzled, yet impressed, the big man tip-toed along until he stood in the doorway.
The intruder stood, back toward the door, and for the moment, was so occupied with pulling over the contents of a large trunk that footsteps outside the door were unnoticed.
"You little rascal!"
These words shouted made the intruder actually jump.
"Ah, now, Miss Gwen, how happened ye in there?" said the maid.
Gwen, thoroughly frightened, tried to rush from the room, but it was useless. The big man filled the doorway. He did not intend to hurt her, when he firmly grasped her arm, but he did intend to give her a lesson, and he proceeded to do it, walking her along the hall on the way to the stairway.
Usually, Gwen"s boldness was equal to any emergency, but this time she was too frightened to object, to wriggle in the firm grasp, or indeed, to do anything other than allow him to take her wherever he chose, and he chose----the piazza filled with guests.
Mrs. Harcourt, at the farthest end of the piazza, busy with her embroidery, did not look up when the two appeared.
"I found _this_ in my room!" said the angry man. "Anyone who owns it may claim it. _This_ is what has been entering rooms, and handling other people"s property."
"Oh, mamma! Why don"t you come and tell them I don"t do such things!"
Of course Mrs. Harcourt dropped her embroidering frame, and rushed forward, s.n.a.t.c.hing Gwen from the big man"s grasp.
""Twould be useless, because I caught her just as she had opened my trunk, and was examining all my belongings. The best thing to do with your smart girl, is to keep her away from hotels, unless you can keep a chain on her to keep her from prowling," growled Mr. Buffington.
"You don"t understand children!" declared Mrs. Harcourt, as with Gwen, she went up the stairway to her room, to which the big man responded: "I shouldn"t want to if they"re all like that!"
Of course the piazza was alive with buzzing voices.
"What a perfectly horrid child!"
"I"d be ashamed of her if she were mine, the little imp!"
These and similar remarks were to be heard on all sides.
Gwen had been pert and saucy, bold, and annoying in many ways, but that a little girl could be the person who had boldly entered any house, or any room at the hotel, poking her impudent little nose into any house or room that remained unlocked, was really a surprise.
They had all believed it to be the work of a man, but no one could understand what prompted him to handle every article in the place that he entered, yet never steal a thing. Now it was easier to understand.
Gwen had everything that love could think of, or that wealth could provide, but her curiosity was great, and she could not keep her mischievous hands off from things belonging to others.
Mrs. Harcourt, angry over what she thought was "outrageous rudeness,"
packed her trunks, and in an hour"s time, left the hotel.
CHAPTER III
LITTLE SEA NYMPHS
Polly and Rose were walking along the beach on the way to call for Sprite. They had not decided how to spend the morning, but whatever they chose to do, they surely would enjoy themselves, for never were three playmates happier in each other"s company.
"A long time ago when you first came to Avondale to live at Sherwood Hall, we named you Princess Polly. We never seemed to think of you as Polly Sherwood, your truly name," Rose said.
"And I liked you the first day I met you by the brook," Polly said, "and I thought Rose Atherton was such a pretty name."
"Sprite"s name just fits her," said Rose, a moment later, "for she looks like a sprite, or a sea nymph, and so Sprite Seaford seems just the name for her.
"There she is now, coming toward us. Let"s run to meet her."
"I took the telescope, and looked up the beach," Sprite said, when they met, "and kept looking until I saw you. Then I put it back on the mantel, and ran to meet you. Now come over to the place I call the bay."
She led the way, and they followed. The bay, as Sprite called it was a place where a ledge projected into the water in such a way that the incoming waves rushed past it, sweeping up onto the sand in a curving line.
It was not much of a bay, but it served as a name, and they always knew what she meant when she spoke of it.
Its shallow water was fine to play in, and when the tide went out, there always remained a little pool that reflected floating clouds.
On its clear surface they skipped flat stones, and they marvelled to see how skillful was little Sprite.
"Nine skips, and then a hop! That makes ten," said Polly, "and I can only make mine skip seven times."
"Oh, but you can do as well as I if you practice enough. I"ve always lived here at the sh.o.r.e," Sprite said, "and the flat stones have been my toys."
It was fine to compete with her, and Rose and Polly worked very hard in their effort to make a better fling.
"Eight!" declared Polly, and for a number of times, she sent the stones skipping eight times across the gla.s.sy little pool.
"Seven!" cried Rose, "and it almost went eight, and then didn"t.
Wasn"t that provoking?"
"Eight!" she shouted a moment later.
"Nine!" squealed Polly. "Nine! Who"d have believed I could?"
"I would," replied Sprite, "because you"re trying so hard, and because you can do anything."