"I want to tell you something," Mona said, as she and Patty at last were alone on the porch. "Who is Azalea?"
"I call that asking, not telling," laughed Patty; "however, I'll reply. She is Bill's cousin,—not first cousin, but the daughter of his father's cousin. So you see,—a distant cousin. Why?"
"I'll tell you why. Roger and I go to the 'movies' sometimes,—and in a picture, the other night, we saw Azalea."
"Saw Azalea! You mean some one who looked like her."
"No; Azalea Thorpe herself! Roger and I both knew her at once. And it was quite a new picture,—taken recently, I mean. Did you know she did such things?"
"No, and I can't think she does. It must have been only a remarkable resemblance, Mona."
"No, Patty. We're positive. And, too, she was doing Wild West stunts,—riding bareback, shooting, throwing a lariat,—all those things,—and Azalea can, you know."
"Yes, I know; and there is something queer going on. It may be that when Azalea goes off for a day or part of a day, that's where she goes. But I can hardly believe it. And why does she keep it so secret?"
"I suppose she thinks you and Bill wouldn't approve."
"And we certainly would not! I don't think it can be possible, Mona. But don't say anything to anybody,—not even to Little Billee,—until I can talk to Azalea, myself. I can do lots with her, alone, but not if anybody else is present."