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Updated: June 14, 2025
When there was nothing left but ashes, Leslie suggested, with a shiver, that they go to bed, and they withdrew to Leslie's room. Needless to say they did not go to bed at once, but sat long by the side window, staring across at Curlew's Nest. And it was then that Phyllis suddenly had her great idea.
Because it really was unusual, and if this Miss Ramsay had gone out that night, I believe Aunt Sally would have been considerably more shocked and would have said so. What do you make of it?" "The only thing I can make out of it is that she didn't go out that first night. But if she didn't visit Curlew's Nest that night, then who in the world did?"
"The getting acquainted was easy, and you all know how I managed that and also the ride, a day or two later. When I was returning from the ride that night, at dusk, Ted signaled me from the bushes near Curlew's Nest, jumped into the car, and told me what had happened in the afternoon.
Ted also told me that he had been in Curlew's Nest the night before and had gone over the place very carefully once more, but had found nothing except a string of beads that had been torn from the fringe of my girdle that other night, and had been lying on the floor. I remember that the girdle caught when I was looking under one of the bureaus.
If you'd work the clock around I wouldn't have you on the job." Turning to the fishermen she rapidly related the incident of the finding of the emery-dust in the Curlew's motor. "It's a lie," Carlin interrupted, "I don't " "It's the truth, Pete Carlin, and you know it." Dickie moved closer to Carlin and her eyes met his. "You can't look me in the eye and deny it," she challenged.
"That last fact ought to help to identify him, if nothing else," mused Phyllis. "But I confess I'm more at sea than ever about the whole thing. I was beginning to think I'd reduced things to some kind of a theory, but this upsets everything. And it annoys me so to think I'm always out of it, being so far away from Curlew's Nest.
"But it's rather far from the water's edge," objected Leslie. "Oh, no, indeed! Why in winter the surf often comes up right under the bungalows!" remarked Phyllis, in quite an offhanded way. "Mercy! Don't ever tell Aunt Marcia that, or she'd go straight home!" exclaimed Leslie. "But isn't it queer that it just happened to be right in front of Curlew's Nest!
Here Aunt Marcia sat, wrapped to the eyes, enjoying the late October sunshine, the invigorating salt air, and the indescribable beauty of the changeful ocean. Leslie had long since, very cautiously and gradually, revealed to her the story of their adventure at Curlew's Nest.
"There it is, 'Curlew's Nest. There's something about the name that fascinates me. Don't you feel so too, Aunt Marcia? I can imagine all sorts of curious and wonderful things about a closed-up house called 'Curlew's Nest'! It just fairly bristles with possibilities!" "What a romantic child you are, Leslie!" smiled her aunt.
When I saw Celia Thaxter she was just beginning to make her effect with those poems and sketches which the sea sings and flashes through as it sings and flashes around the Isles of Shoals, her summer home, where her girlhood had been passed in a freedom as wild as the curlew's.
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