This did not seem like the same Etta Dooley who had been so reserved when the girls had called at her cabin home. What had happened to change her, Dora wondered.
When the car turned and the small boys, remembering to be quiet, had nevertheless performed gleeful antics, Mary went up the steps and into the house.
“I’m going to bed,” she said and her voice sounded tired.
Dora, wickedly pleased, could not let well enough alone. “I didn’t know that Etta was so well acquainted as to call Jerry’s mother Aunt Mollie.” She wisely did not add her next thought, “You’ll have to look to your laurels, Mary-mine. Etta’s a mighty attractive girl and she simply loves the Bar N ranch.”
When Dora spoke again, it was on an entirely different subject. “Isn’t it wonderful, Mary, to think that we’ve solved the mystery of Little Bodil and that tomorrow, perhaps, the boys are going to defy that Evil Eye Turquoise.”
“I suppose so,” Mary replied indifferently. Dora turned out the light and with a shrug got into bed with her friend.
CHAPTER XXIX
AN OLD LETTER
The next day, directly after breakfast, Mary and Dora began to expect someone to arrive. The roof of the front porch was railed around and when they had made their bed and tidied their room they stepped out of the door-like window and stood there gazing about them. From that high elevation they had a view of the road coming from Tombstone as it climbed to the tableland and also they could see for miles across the desert valley toward the Bar N ranch.
“Who do you think will be the first to arrive?” Dora asked as she slipped an arm about her friend’s waist.
Mary shook her head without replying. Then, because her conscience had been troubling her, Dora said impulsively, “Mary, dear, I didn’t mean, last night, that Harry Hulbert says nice things to you without meaning them. No one could help thinking you’re—”