“I saw this Phelps girl,” pursued Ann Hicks, “and asked her about you folks. She said you’d been and gone.”
“Oh!” was the chorused exclamation from the other girls.
“And she is one of my pupils!” groaned Miss Cullam.
“She didn’t learn to tell whoppers at your college, I guess,” said Ann, bluntly. “Anyhow, she fooled me nicely. She said she was going over this very route you had taken and I could come along. She wouldn’t let me pay any of the expenses—not even tip the guide. Only for my pony.”
“But where is she now?” asked Ruth.
“And where is that Flapjack person—Min’s father?” cried Jennie.
“We got here last night and put up at this hotel,” Ann said, going steadily on with her story and not to be drawn away on any side issues. “We got here last night. Late in the evening somebody came to see this Phelps girl—a man.”
“Goodness!” exclaimed Rebecca. “And she is traveling without a chaperon!”
“‘Chaperon’—huh!” ejaculated Ann. “She didn’t need any chaperon. She can take care of herself all right. Well, she didn’t come back and I went to bed. This morning I found a bit of paper on my pillow—here ’tis——”
“That’s Edie’s handwriting,” Sally Blanchard said eagerly. “What does it say?”