Free The Secret of the Sand Castle by Margaret Sutton Page B

uncertainly.
    “Well, what is she? If I had known Flo had so many queer relatives I wouldn’t have come with her,” Pauline declared. “She always seemed such a practical girl. But something has changed her lately.”
    “It may be a need to know a few answers. I’d be curious, too, if I had all those aunts and uncles I’d never seen, wouldn’t you?”
    “But Judy, she said she’d seen some of them at a funeral. She keeps contradicting herself,” Pauline continued. “At first she said she didn’t know any of their names and now, suddenly, she does. I really wanted to talk with you about it. You saw her aunt Hazel on the bus. She was on her way to New York, wasn’t she?”
    “We only rode together as far as Scranton, but I assumed she was going to New York, too,” Judy admitted.
    “Was she wearing black?”
    “No, I told Flo—”
    “That she wasn’t that tall,” Pauline interrupted,
    “but you said you only saw her when she was sitting down.”
    “I know, but a person can tell.”
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    “A person can change her clothes, too.”
    “But not her figure. Really, Pauline, it’s absurd to even suggest that such a warm-hearted, friendly woman as Hazel Barton could possibly be that unearthly woman in black. I saw her at the dock, too. I think she meant to be seen, but not clearly—”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I give up. I’m not sure, myself, what I mean,” confessed Judy. “Let’s talk about something else.”
    “For instance?”
    “The weather. It seems to be clearing up. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the sun came out before noon.”
    “What would surprise you, Judy?”
    It was no use. Pauline had a way of keeping at a person until she discovered her innermost thoughts.
    “If you really want to know,” Judy began. “It would surprise me a great deal if we found out anything at all. I remember how hard it was to find out anything from Roxy. Even though she kept insisting she wasn’t my cousin, the need to know for sure just wouldn’t let me have any peace . . .” Judy’s voice trailed off. Pauline was no longer listening. Something in the air had distracted her attention.
    “Look!” she exclaimed, gazing skyward. “The mist has cleared away and I can see a patch of blue and—yes, it is.”
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    “Is what?”
    “An airplane. Over there beyond those cottages.”
    “Lots of airplanes fly over Fire Island. There’s an airport over on the mainland. Didn’t you hear a word I was saying?” Judy asked.
    “Some of it. You were telling me about your cousin Roxy and how hard it was to find out anything from her. Well, you two must be alike because it isn’t easy to find out things from you, either. If that woman in black is Roxy’s aunt Hazel—”
    “Flo’s aunt Hazel. Oh, I suppose she would be Roxy’s aunt, too,” Judy admitted on second thought.
    “She claims all the Terry relatives as hers. You see, she loved her stepmother—”
    “She’s dead, too, isn’t she?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “And her aunt Agnes is dead?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then why don’t you admit it? If the woman in black isn’t one of the live relatives she has to be one of the dead ones. People do see apparitions. You’ve seen them yourself.”
    “But Pauline, I always found out—”
    “Then let’s find out about this one. Can’t you see what I’m getting at, Judy? Irene and Flo are afraid of that woman in black and little Judy thinks she’s a witch and I’ve just about convinced you she’s an 96

    apparition because you won’t admit, even to yourself, that she could be Hazel Barton.”
    “I told you she wasn’t wearing black,” Judy insisted.
    “Anybody can change into a black dress,” Pauline pointed out, “and I’m talking about the living. She could have changed her clothes and come over to Fire Island, just as you did, to see if the property was worth anything.”
    “She wasn’t on the boat,” Judy began.
    “Maybe she came on this boat.”
    They could see it now—a