Carter opened the door for them and then went in search of the baggage man. Betty and Mrs. Littell found the telegraph window and in a few minutes a message was speeding out to Richard Gordon, Flame City, Oklahoma, telling him that his niece was in Washington, giving her address and asking what he wished her to do.
"I'll write him a letter to-night," promised Mrs. Littell when this was accomplished. "Then he'll know that you are in safe hands. You must write to him, too, dear. Flame City may consist of one shack and a hundred oil wells and be twenty miles from a post-office, you know."
Carter reported that the trunks were already on their way to Fairfields, and now the car was turned toward the gleaming Monument that seemed to be visible from every part of the city, Betty, her mind relieved by the sending of the telegram, abandoned herself to the joys of sightseeing. Here she was, young, well and strong, in a luxurious car, surrounded by friends, and driving through one of the most beautiful cities in the United States. Any girl who, under those circumstances, could remain a prey to doubts and gloom, would indeed be a confirmed misanthrope.
The car was stopped at one of the concrete walks leading to the base of the Monument, and with final instructions as to the time and place they were to meet her, Mrs. Littell drove away.
"Why, there's a crowd there!" cried Libbie in wonder.
"Waiting to be taken up," explained Louise. "Come on, we'll have to stand in line."
The line of waiting people extended half way around the Monument. The girls took their places, and when the crowd streamed out and they were permitted to go inside, Betty and Libbie, the two strangers, understood the reason for the delay. The elevator seemed huge, but it was quickly filled, and when the gates were closed the car began to mount very slowly.
"We'd be sick and dizzy if they went up as fast as they do in department stores and office buildings," said Bobby. "It takes about fifteen minutes to reach the top. Watch, and you'll see lots of interesting things on the floors we pass."
Betty was wondering how Bobby had ever survived the climb up the stairs and the trip down again with the enthusiastic theological student, when a cry somewhere in the back of the car startled her.
"What's the matter?" demanded the elevator operator, without turning his head.