“Don’t make fun of him, Sim,” Terry rebuked. “He’s a very important man. He says so himself.”
“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Arden declared, yawning freely. “I want to look my best when I meet the chief.”
The conversation dragged, and feeling secure in the knowledge that the midnight intruder had gone, the girls finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, after breakfast, and with Mrs. Landry’s consent, they started for the village to report to Chief Reilly.
Leaving by the front door, they were on their way to the garage at the back when they came face to face with George Clayton, Melissa’s father.
“Good-morning,” he said a little sheepishly. Perhaps he was conscious of his somewhat fishy-scented clothes and muddy hip boots.
“’Morning,” Terry replied, and waited for him to speak again. All the girls felt rather antagonistic toward him, since they had witnessed his treatment of Melissa.
“I wuz wonderin’,” he began again, “that is—have you young ladies seen anythin’ of my daughter Melissa?”
“Why, no. Not since early last evening,” Arden replied. “Why?”
“I wuz a little worried about her. She ain’t been home all night, and I thought maybe——”