"Yes. But that's about all that was pretty about it," replied Mrs.

Bragley, with a weak smile. "My husband invested almost all his savings in it because he thought it was going to make him rich."

"When was that?" asked Nan, who was growing deeply interested.

"Only a short time before his death," came the answer sadly.

"But haven't you heard anything about it since?" queried Bess wonderingly. "You may really be rich, for all you know."

Mrs. Bragley smiled wanly.

"Not much chance of that, I fear," she replied. "I have written again and again, but have never received any answer to my letters. I'm afraid it was all a swindle."

"You must have papers of some kind," observed Nan.

"Yes," the woman a.s.sented. "They're in that bottom drawer there, if you'll trouble to get them for me."

Nan opened the drawer indicated and took from it a packet of papers. The doc.u.ments bore marks of frequent folding and unfolding.

"May I look at them?" Nan asked, as she brought them to the bedside.

"Surely," was the ready answer. "And if one of you will just hand me my specs, I'll look over them with you and tell you all about them."

The three girls bent eagerly over Mrs. Bragley as she opened one paper after the other, prospectuses, several of them, highly colored ill.u.s.trated leaflets and descriptive circulars. Then came a certificate for forty shares in the Sunny Slopes Development Company. The only individual name on any of the papers seemed to be that of Jacob Pacomb, who, it appeared, was the manager and the developer of the tract.

"It's extremely strange that no answer ever came to any of your letters," remarked Rhoda, as she scanned the doc.u.ments. "Did any of the letters ever come back?"

"Not one," was the reply.

"Perhaps the man did not receive them," conjectured Nan.

"In that case," Mrs. Bragley replied, "the letters would have been returned to me, as I put my name and address on the outside."

"This man, Pacomb," suggested Bess, "may have died and all of the letters may have been destroyed."

"That wouldn't be very likely," objected Nan. "Some one would probably have settled up the business or taken it over and kept on with it. In either case, the letters would almost surely have been answered."

"I have thought of all that," the woman replied; "and that is why I think it must have been all a fraud. If I had been able to spare the money I would have taken a trip to Florida and looked into the matter myself, but I never felt that I could afford it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The three girls bent eagerly over Mrs. Bragley as she opened one paper after another. (_See page 65_)]

"It is too bad you couldn't have gone," said Rhoda thoughtfully; "for if there was fraud you would then at least have found it out and could have had somebody punished. It looks to me that, knowing you were a widow and without means to look into things, they have deliberately held back any money that might have been coming to you and cheated you out of your rights."

The girls had been so interested in the papers and the story that went with them that they had thought of nothing else. Now Nan, suddenly glancing up, noticed that the old face looked white and tired. She rose at once.

"I'm afraid we've stayed too long," she said penitently. "We ought to have remembered that Mrs. Bragley isn't strong."

She replaced the papers in the drawer, smoothed the bed covers, and gave the injured woman a comforting pat on the shoulders.

"I hope you will be well again very soon," she said, "and then perhaps some way will be found to look into this matter."

"Anyway, we're going to try to do something about it," promised Rhoda as they took their leave.

The girls found when they got outside that it had begun to snow.

"Looks to me as if we were in for another storm," was Rhoda's comment, as they trudged along.

"Who cares?" cried Bess, catching up a handful of the snow and making a s...o...b..ll.

"You can't hit anything," scoffed Nan. "Try it."

"All right, here goes for the blacksmith shop," answered Bess gaily, for they were almost directly in front of the little smithy.

"Gracious! Going to try to hit the whole building?" queried the girl from Rose Ranch.

"A blind man could do that," added Nan.

"I'm going to hit the door--the very middle of the door," answered Bess.

"Oh, Bess! if the man is inside, what will he think?" said Nan.

"I don't care what he thinks," was the quick reply. "Here goes!"

Away flew the s...o...b..ll, and it must be admitted that Bess's aim was decidedly good, for the s...o...b..ll sailed directly for the center of the door of the smithy.

But as the girl launched the s...o...b..ll the door of the blacksmith shop opened and a man came forth.

Spat! the s...o...b..ll landed directly in the man's face!

CHAPTER X

A MIDNIGHT FEAST

"My gracious, Bess, see what you have done!" cried Nan.

"You certainly hit the bull's eye that time," was Rhoda's comment.

"Oh!" was the only word Bess could utter, and she stood there in the roadway, her arm still poised high in the air as when she had thrown the s...o...b..ll.

"Hi, you! Wot yer mean by heavin' s...o...b..a.l.l.s at me?" screamed the man, as he wiped the snow from his face. "You let me alone! I ain't done no harm, I ain't."

He waved his hands wildly in the air. The girls now noticed that he was in tatters and had a very red nose, doubtless made redder than ever by the s...o...b..ll.

"Come, move on now," said a voice from the smithy, and a tall man wearing a leather ap.r.o.n appeared. "I told you before I'd not have you hanging around here. Git!"

"I ain't gonner be s...o...b..lled!" cried the tramp, for such he was.