“Yes, capitally,” said Betty in so frightened a voice that Katherine dropped the subject.
“She’s lost up stream somewhere and afraid to move for fear of hitting a rock,” she said easily. “Or perhaps she’s right out in the pond by the boat-house and doesn’t dare to cross because she might go too far down toward the dam. We can find her all right, I guess.”
“Then you’ll come?” said Betty eagerly.
“Why, of course. You weren’t thinking of going alone, were you?”
“I thought maybe you’d think it was silly for any one to go. I suppose she might be at one of the campus houses.”
“She might, but I doubt it,” said Katherine. “She was painfully intent on solitude when she left here. Now don’t fuss too long about dressing.”
Without a word Betty sped off to her room. She was just pulling a rain-coat over a very meagre toilet when Katherine put her head in at the door. “Bring matches,” she said in a sepulchral whisper. Betty emptied the contents of her match-box into her ulster pocket, threw a cape over her arm for Eleanor, and followed Katherine cat-footed down the stairs. In the lower hall they stopped for a brief consultation.
“Ought we to tell Mrs. Chapin?” asked Betty doubtfully.
“Eleanor will hate us forever if we do,” said Katherine, “and I don’t see any special advantage in it. If we don’t find her, Mrs. Chapin can’t. We might tell Rachel though, in case we were missed.”
“Or we might leave a note where she would find it,” suggested Betty. “Then if we weren’t missed no one need know.”