The pink paper fluttered to the ground at our feet. I tore open the second one; it was from Olive Berdenstein——
“Do not understand you. I have no intention of breaking our compact.”
We read them both over again carefully. Then we looked at one another.
“He must have taken fright needlessly,” I said, in a low tone.
“You are still certain, then, that it was he?” she asked.
“Absolutely!” I answered. “If only we could find him! In a week it will be too late.”
“Too late!” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
“The ceremony at Eastminster is on Sunday week. He was to have been there at least a week before. I am afraid that he will not go at all now.”
“We must act at once,” my mother declared, firmly. “I know exactly where you saw him. I will go there at once.”
“We will go there together,” I cried. “I shall be ready in a minute.”