So they hurriedly pedalled back to the little thatched cottage, and after some trouble succeeded in routing out an old woman with a sweet, quavering voice and some difficulty in hearing distinctly. However, when they had explained their errand, she was most eager and voluble in giving them information.
Why yes, to be sure, a little lady on a bicycle had come to the door, maybe half an hour back, and asked if she were on the right road to Frattenton. The kindly old soul had invited her in to rest a minute by the fire and have a glass of milk, "for she had looked so tired-like, and 'twas a long pull along the Frattenton road." The offer had evidently been too much for Erica to resist, for she had left her bicycle outside and gone in.
"And how long has she been gone?" interrupted Duane quickly.
"A matter o' ten minutes or perhaps a quarter of an hour, I should say, miss," quavered the old lady.
"And did you see which road she took?"
"Why no, miss. I didn't go down to th' gate wi' she. You see, my rheumatics is that bad——"
But Kitty and Duane, with a hurried thanks, were already outside the door and running down to their bikes.
"Just missed her at the turn here, then," said Duane. "Jove, but it's getting thick!"
"Better light up," said Kitty quietly, and they lit their lamps with fingers that trembled with impatience.
"What luck for us those road-menders were there," said Kitty as they pedalled forward. "Or else we should have been nearly in Frattenton by now. Bother it, it's uphill again!"