“No, they hadn’t when we left.”
“It seems queer.”
“Yes, it does. I’m really worried about her now. If she could only remember!”
“Well, as long as your Aunt Emily is taking care of her, she’ll be all right. Now go along—get your swim, and I’ll see you at one o’clock.”
Linda dived into the water, but she did not swim long. Amy was standing still, up to her neck, clinging nervously to Mike’s hands. Though the sun and the air were warm, she seemed to be shaking all over.
“Miss Amy’s scared to death,” announced Mike. “She acts like a person who has never gotten over a drowning scare.” He turned to the girl. “Have you ever been drowned, Miss Amy?”
The girl burst out laughing at the absurdity of the question, and seemed her normal self again. But she was glad that Linda suggested that they all go home.
They entered the house with the usual hope, a hope which was gradually dying now, of hearing from Amy’s family. But Miss Carlton had to tell them again that no one except her own friends had telephoned. Linda hurried off to dress for the luncheon at Kit’s.
“Where are you going, dear?” Miss Carlton asked her, half an hour later, when her niece appeared in a new dress, a flowered chiffon, which she would hardly have worn for lunch at home by themselves.
“I’m going to Kitty’s, Aunt Emily. To help plan for the treasure hunt. You—you don’t mind if I take part in it, do you? I have to let them know to-day.”