"Why, you're almost horrid!" declared Betty, aggrieved. "You don't know what a nice girl Ida is."
"Humph!" (Could he have caught that expression from waiting outside Mrs. Staples' shop?) "Humph! I don't believe you know how nice she is, or otherwise. You never saw her but once."
"But she's seen the horse," giggled Bobby.
"What horse?" demanded Bob.
"Mr. Lewis Bolter's black mare, Ida Bellethorne."
"Oh!"
"And, oh, Bob!" cried Betty, "there's another Ida Bellethorne, and this Ida has gone away to see her. She's her aunt."
"Who's her aunt?" grumbled Bob, who was having some difficulty just then in driving the car and so could not give his full attention to the matter the girls were chattering about.
"Why, see!" cried Betty, rummaging in her bag. "Here's the piece of newspaper with the society item, or whatever it is, in it that made Ida go away so suddenly this morning. It's about her aunt, the great concert singer. Ida's gone to meet her where that says," and she put the piece of paper into Bob's hand.
"All right," he said. "Here's Markham and Boggs' place. You said you were in this store yesterday, Betty."