She had not long to wait. Ada, in her beautiful mink furs, which she clung to persistently, though the fall weather so far had been very mild, was presently seen coming across the grass. She walked straight to the spot where the bottle was buried, and, stooping down, brushed away the leaves and dirt. She lifted the bottle.
"Pshaw, it's empty!" she said aloud.
"Yes, it's empty," echoed Betty, stepping out from behind the bush. "And you are to give the money back to me, and Libbie's note with it."
"Is that so?" said Ada contemptuously. "I have something to say about that. I intend to see that that note reaches the proper person—Mrs. Eustice."
Betty took a step nearer, her dark eyes blazing.
"I can play the kind of game you play—if I must," she said in a curiously repressed tone. "What about the trip you and Ruth Gladys made to Edentown last Friday night?"
Ada glared at her.
"Were you there? How did you know?" she stammered jerkily. "If you were up to the same trick, you'll look nice tattle-telling on us, won't you?"
"I wasn't there, but I have witnesses whom I can summon to say you were," declared Betty, wishing her voice did not tremble with nervousness. "You were the only girls from Shadyside, and you must have climbed down the fire—"
Ada raised her hand that held the bottle.