"Oh, I reckon Sarah'll ask a heap of questions—Sarah's mighty inquisitive at times," Patricia answered. "I rather think the best way will be just to go ahead and not bother her about it."
"But how?" Mabel insisted.
"You leave that to Nell and me—we'll manage. The rest of you must wait here; keep Custard with you. Oh, dear! I thought you were beautifully dry, Susy Vail; what did you go sneeze for? Well, you'll just have to keep moving, that's all. You see that she does, Mabel."
Patricia's commands seldom fell on deaf ears and Mabel promptly insisted on a game of tag; while Patricia herself, accompanied by Nell Hardy, started on a brisk run across the meadow.
At the garden gate, Patricia called a halt. "Duck," she ordered, dropping on the grass. From half-way up the path, came Sarah's voice: "Oh, Miss P'tricia! Miss P'tricia!"
"She'll go back presently, if she doesn't hear us," Patricia whispered with elaborate caution; "then we must get to the house as quickly and as quietly as possible and secure the re—the booty. Oh, go away!" she added sternly, as Custard came sniffing about them.
But Custard only wriggled and danced about and over them, urging them as eloquently as he could to get up and continue their way indoors. Wasn't the pantry indoors? Custard could have told his mistress long ago that it was quite supper time.
At half-past six, the doctor and Miss Kirby drove into the yard. As the gig drew up before the side door, Sarah, voluble and indignant, appeared. From the mass of information she hurled upon them, one fact only was quite clear—Patricia was missing.
She was so often missing, that the announcement failed to excite any great apprehension in the mind of either her father or her aunt.
"But the party—" Miss Kirby began.