“Isn’t it terrible?” she whispered tensely. “He’s such a good-looking boy, too—don’t tell me they’ve killed him or anything?”
Without speaking, Dorothy led her around to the back of the house.
“No, they haven’t killed him,” she answered when they had reached the shelter of the apple orchard. “This is no movie thriller. But something pretty serious is going on in there. Now tell me—are you going to pull yourself together and be of some help? Because if you’re not, you can climb one of these trees and stay there until it’s all over. That’s the only safe place I know of—and even up there you’ll get into trouble if you start screaming again!”
“Well, I really couldn’t help it, Dorothy. He was such a darling looking boy and—”
“My goodness—what have his looks got to do with it? He’s in a peck of trouble—that’s the principal thing. I want to help him.”
“Oh, so do I!” asserted Betty eagerly. “I’ll be good, honest I will.”
“Obey orders?”
“Do my best.”
“O.K. then. I’m going round front. Those blackguards must have come in a car—and I’m going to find it.”
“But you can’t leave me here alone—”