"I guess so," said Curly. "She never said much to me about it. I just wormed it out of her, as you might say. She isn't so awful happy here, you bet."
"Oh, Curly! I blame myself," groaned Ruth.
"What for?"
"Because I ought to have learned more about her—got closer to her."
"You might's well try to get close to a prickly porcupine," laughed the boy. "She'd made up her mind to hate the rest of you girls and she's going to keep on hating you till the end of time. That's the sort of a girl Amy is."
"And nothing to be proud about," declared Ruth, with some vexation. "Don't you think it, Curly?"
"Huh! I don't. You're silly, Ruth—but I like you a whole lot more than I do Amy."
"Goodness! what a polite boy," cried Ruth. "There's the telephone!"
She ran back upstairs, hoping the message would be that Amy Gregg was found. But that was not it. Over the wire Mrs. Tellingham herself was speaking to Ann.
"No, Ma'am. We don't know where to look for her," Ann said.