“And I’ll run and ask Sally. She’s a good old scout,” said Helen.
But as soon as the plump girl had departed, Helen flung herself upon Ruth. “Who was she? Tell me, quick!” she demanded.
“The girl under that window?”
“Of course. You know, Ruthie.”
“I—I suspect,” her chum said slowly.
“Tell me!”
“Edie Phelps.”
“There!” exclaimed Helen, her black eyes fairly snapping with excitement. “I thought so.”
“You did?” asked Ruth, puzzled. “Why should she be listening to us? She’s never shown any particular interest in us Briarwoods.”
“But for a week or two I’ve noticed her hanging around. It’s something concerning this vacation trip she wants to find out about, I believe.”