Free Mystery in the Sand by Gertrude Warner

hundred cats lives in the Tower House. One boy even broke a window just for the fun of it.”
    “That’s true,” Mr. Lee said.
    “Miss Lane may be shy,” Violet added, “but she knows she is a good painter.”
    “She sells her pictures, all right,” said Mr. Lee. “I should think she would agree to an exhibit. But there is another reason why I think she would be delighted.”
    “And what is that?” asked Mr. Alden.
    “Suppose I told her that the money the exhibit earns would be used for a shelter for stray cats? That is the kind of thing she would like very much.”
    “That is the best idea!” said Jessie. “I’m sure she will think it is a fine idea, too. But I didn’t know she had enough pictures for an exhibit.”
    “She has,” said Mr. Lee. “There are dozens in New York. Then, James, I think if you asked, some people would loan pictures they have already bought. This could be a very interesting exhibit.”
    Violet said, “I think Miss Lane would want to show the picture she painted of Ali and me.”
    “And that would help everyone in Beachwood understand Miss Lane better,” Benny said.
    “I think so, too,” agreed Jessie.
    “Well, I guess Henry can go for the ladies now,” said Mr. Lee.
    “He’s already gone,” Jessie told him.
    When the blue car arrived, Miss Lane was carrying a basket. She said, “I brought a present for Violet.” Then suddenly she saw Mr. Lee. She said in a low voice, “Hello, Dan. We haven’t met for many years.”
    “But now we are neighbors,” said Mr. Lee, “and I hope we’ll meet often. What is in the basket? It seems to be something alive.”
    “It is,” replied Miss Lane. “You see, Violet was willing to let me paint her picture.”
    Violet looked at the basket—it moved a trifle.
    Miss Lane opened the basket and drew out a kitten—a perfectly white kitten with long, soft fur, blue eyes, and a look like a puffball.
    “Oh, you lovely little thing!” cried Violet, her eyes shining. “May I hold him?”
    Miss Lane set the kitten down on the sand. He sat there with his small tail out straight behind him. Violet took the tiny tail and curled it around him. The little cat instantly uncurled it and curled it up again, just exactly the way Violet had placed it.
    “Look at that,” Benny said. “He wants to do it himself.”
    Violet replied, “That’s like all cats. I ought to have remembered. I am so used to dogs now.”
    Then the little puffball began to climb up the front of Violet’s blouse. His tiny claws were like needles.
    Violet pulled him off, but he went right up again. He seemed to know he was Violet’s cat, just as old Watch knew he was Jessie’s dog.
    “What’s his name?” asked Benny. “Or hasn’t he a name yet?”
    Miss Lane answered, “Yes, his name is Sugar Cookie. He’s a registered cat. His mother is Bluebell the Third and his grandmother was White Clover the Second.”
    Violet pulled a blue string across the sand. The kitten followed it like a little wild tiger, biting it and tossing it in the air. Every motion was beautiful.
    Miss Lane watched the kitten so closely that everyone began to watch Miss Lane. She saw the kitten’s motions just as she would paint them.
    “There is a second present, and it is for Mr. Alden,” said Miss Lane. She took the paper off Violet’s portrait. It was a lovely thing, and it looked exactly like Violet.
    Mr. Alden was delighted. He kept looking from the picture to the slender girl and back again. He was wondering if Miss Lane would like the idea of an exhibit.
    “Sugar Cookie, let’s eat,” said Benny. “How would you like some warm milk?”
    Jessie went in to warm some milk, and Miss Lane sniffed the air. “That coffee smells good,” she said.

    Benny and Henry brought out plates of sandwiches and the pickles and cups for the hot coffee. For a few minutes it was busy and then it was very quiet as everyone began to eat.
    After his second sandwich, Grandfather looked at Mr. Lee and