“Isn’t it lucky he is?  And don’t you hope he’ll find some clue before his holidays end?  That detective didn’t seem to make any progress at all!”

Mr. Clark came back more than ever convinced that he had guessed the cause of the “botanist’s” perseverance.

“Unless my eyes and fingers deceive me greatly this is clay and pretty smooth clay,” he reported to the waiting group, and Dorothy, who knew something about clay because she had been taught to model, said she thought so, too.

“We know his reason for wanting the land, then,” declared Mr. Clark; “now if we could learn why he can’t seem to take it in that he’s not going to get it, no matter what happens, we might be able to make him take his afternoon walks in some other direction.”

“Who is he?  And where is he staying?” inquired Mrs. Smith.

“He calls himself Hapgood and he’s staying at the Motor Inn.”

“Is the little girl his daughter?”

“I’ll ask him if he ever comes here again,” and Mr. Clark looked as if he almost wished he would appear, so that he might gratify his curiosity.

The Motor Inn was a house of no great size on the main road to Jersey City.  A young woman, named Foster, lived in it with her mother and brother.  The latter, George, was a high school friend of Helen and Roger.  Miss Foster taught dancing in the winter and, being an enterprising young woman, had persuaded her mother to open the old house for a tea room for the motorists who sped by in great numbers on every fair day, and who had no opportunity to get a cup of tea and a sandwich any nearer than Glen Point in one direction and Athens Creek in the other.

“Here are we sitting down and doing nothing to attract the money out of their pockets and they are hunting for a place to spend it!” she had exclaimed.

The house was arranged like the Emerson farmhouse, with a wide hall dividing it, two rooms on each side.  Miss Foster began by putting out a rustic sign which her brother made for her.

      MOTOR INN
  TEA and SANDWICHES
  LUNCHEON DINNER

it read.  The entrance was attractive with well-kept grass and pretty flowers.  Miss Foster took a survey of it from the road and thought she would like to go inside herself if she happened to be passing.

They decided to keep the room just in front of the kitchen for the family, but the room across the hall they fitted with small tables of which they had enough around the house.  The back room they reserved for a rest room for the ladies, and provided it with a couch and a dressing table always kept fully, equipped with brushes, pins and hairpins.

“If we build up a real business we can set tables here in the hall,” Miss Foster suggested.

“Why not on the veranda at the side?” her mother asked.

“That’s better still.  We might put a few out there to indicate that people can have their tea there if they want to, and then let them take their choice in fair weather.”