"Have we kidnapped anybody?" she asked, a bit hysterically. "Good gracious, Dad, don't tell me I've forcibly run off with a girl? Haven't you made a mistake? She must be Betty—she said so."
"My darlings, I'm sorry to be late," said a new voice, a rich, sweet contralto, and a stout woman with a kindly, florid face swept through the doorway. "Why, what is the matter?" she demanded hurriedly, confronting the tense group.
"Momsie!" exclaimed Bobby, hurling herself upon the newcomer. "Oh, Momsie, isn't this Betty Littell? We went to meet her and she said her name was Betty, and all the way home she talked about Uncle Dick, and now she says dad isn't her uncle! I'm afraid I've made a mess of things."
"Yes, I think you have," said Betty, with blazing cheeks. "I came to Washington to meet my uncle, Mr. Richard Gordon, who is stopping at the Willard. Of course my name is Betty. I'm Betty Gordon, and he's my Uncle Dick. And goodness only knows what he is doing now—he'll be about crazy if he came to meet me."
Bobby began to laugh uncontrollably.
"I never heard of such a thing in my life!" she giggled, wiping her eyes. "Dad's name is Richard Littell, and we've been expecting our cousin Betty Littell to arrive to-day from Vermont for a long visit. We haven't seen her since she was six years old, but I took a chance on recognizing her. And then there was the name! How could I guess there would be two Bettys looking for two Uncle Dicks! Don't be mad, Betty; you can see a mix-up like that wouldn't happen twice in a life time."
"She isn't mad," interposed Mr. Littell, lowering himself carefully to the window seat, for he had been standing all this time and his foot began to pain again. "After she knows you a little better, Bobby, she will expect this sort of denouement to follow whatever you undertake. I say we ought to have some dinner, Mother, and then talk at the table."
"Of course, of course," agreed motherly Mrs. Littell. "The poor child must be famished. Take Betty—you don't mind if I call you Betty, do you, dear?—up to your room, Bobby, and when you come down dinner will be served."
"But my uncle!" urged Betty. "He will be so worried. And the other girl—where do you suppose she is?"
"By George, the child has more sense than I have," said Mr. Littell energetically. "I'd give a fortune if Bobby had half as level a head. Our Betty is probably having hysterics in the station if she hasn't taken the next train back to Vermont."