“Yes; that’s why she’s so fond of me. Do hunt her up.”
“Well, cutie, just for you, I’ll do that same. Where shall I go to look for her?”
“How should I know? But you keep watch of Fulton, and I’ll bet he gets some word from her.”
“Yes, they’re sweethearts. Now, how do sweethearts get word to each other? You ought to know all about sweethearting.”
“I don’t,” said Genevieve, demurely.
“Pshaw, now, that’s too bad. Want me to teach you?”
“Yes—if you don’t mind.”
“Saunter away with me, then,” and the saucy boy led Miss Lane off for a stroll round the grounds.
“Honest, now, do you want to help?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” she asserted. “I’m downright fond of Maida, and though I know she didn’t do it, yet she and her father will be suspected unless we can find this other person. And the only way to get a line on him, seems to be through Rachel. Why do you suppose she ran away?”