“Maybe she is,” said Jack, “but she isn’t dressed for the grand march yet. I’ve just been to her room, and her green dress is all spread out on the bed, and she’s nowhere to be found. Mother doesn’t know where she is.”
“Why, how strange!” said Constance. “Betty’s never late, and it was about two when we both went up-stairs to dress. Where can she be?”
There didn’t seem any real reason for alarm, but it was certainly strange that Betty should disappear so mysteriously. As Constance said, Betty was never late. She was always ready at the appointed time, and it seemed as if something must have happened to her.
“I can’t find Betty anywhere,” said Mrs. McGuire, as she joined the disturbed-looking group. “It’s so strange, for I know she had nothing more to attend to. She stopped at my door about two o’clock, and said everything was ready and she was going to dress.”
It was beginning to look serious now, and Dorothy went back to Betty’s room to make search.
As Jack had said, her pretty green dress was spread out in readiness. The little green slippers stood near by, and the green cap and gilt harp lay on the couch. Surely Betty had not begun to dress. She must have been called away by some one suddenly. Her kimono was flung across a chair as if hurriedly thrown there, and Dorothy looked in the dress-cupboard to see what Betty might be wearing. But there were many suits and dresses hanging there, and Dorothy couldn’t tell which, if any, pretty summer costume was missing. It was very mysterious, and she went slowly down-stairs again, wondering what they should do.
“She’s been kidnapped,” Mrs. McGuire was saying; “I’ve always feared it!”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Van Court, an elderly lady, who was Mr. Dick’s mother. “Of course she hasn’t been kidnapped. I think she has fallen in the pond.”
Jack laughed at this.
“Oh, no, Mrs. Van Court,” he said; “Betty is too big a girl to tumble into the water. I think some one on some committee wanted her to look after some booth or something, and she’s about the place somewhere.”