"You've guessed only part of it, Miss Grayson. It isn't a lovers' quarrel,—exactly,—but I can set it right! Will you promise to keep Miss—Adams there, until I can get there?"
"Yes, indeed. She's asleep yet,—but it's a broken slumber, and she murmurs constantly of you,—and of her other friends."
"Thank you a thousand times, I'll be there in an hour. Good-bye."
"Come along, Patty," Van Reypen cried, as he hung up the receiver, "come on, Bill! I've found her! She's assumed the name of Alice Adams,—and she's with a sweet-voiced lady named Grayson. Come on,—I'll tell you the rest as we go."
They didn't break the speed laws, as their car flew down to New York, but it was only because that would have meant delay in reaching their goal. About mid-afternoon they arrived at Miss Grayson's apartment and surprised Azalea by entering the room where she sat.
"You naughty girl!" cried Patty,—but as she noted Azalea's pale face and worried, harassed eyes, she just clasped her in her arms, with a little crooning murmur of affection.
"It's all right, whatever it is," she reassured, for Azalea turned big, frightened eyes on Farnsworth.
"You bet it's all right!" Philip cried, as he stepped eagerly forward.
With a tired little sigh, Azalea put her hand in his. "How did you find me?" she began, but Van Reypen said, "Never mind that, now. You just come back home with us,—and first thank Miss Grayson prettily for her kindness to you."
Miss Grayson, a pretty, round-faced girl, was greatly interested in the dramatic situation, and though she disclaimed any occasion for thanks, yet she very much wanted to know what it was all about.