“It was lovely of you to wait up for us,” said Miss Phillips, taking the tin plate Doris handed her.
“We couldn’t any of us have slept a wink till you did come,” said Ruth. “We were so excited and worried.”
The two ate silently while Ruth and Doris aimed to keep up the spirits of the party by relating some of the trifling incidents of the day. Miss Phillips finished her tea and turned to the girls.
“There unfortunately isn’t much to tell,” she said sadly; and then proceeded to relate her conversation with the woman at the farm-house.
“We took her advice,” she continued, “and made the portage which she suggested. It was a short cut—possibly it saved us a mile or so. Then we went very slowly, looking everywhere for a canoe, and calling at intervals, and whistling the troop call. Once we saw two girls in the woods and our hearts fairly stopped beating; but when they came nearer we realized they did not look anything like our girls. Then, as soon as it got dark, we went faster, calling the girls’ names, however, as we went along. Twice we stopped people—farmers—to ask if they had seen anything of the girls, but we got no information.
“And so you see our only hope lies in what the woman reported that the girls said—that they would press on and try to beat us to Silvertown. I devoutly hope that is the case; but I am inclined to doubt it, for it somehow does not sound like Marjorie Wilkinson.”
“But, Captain,” put in Ruth, “Marj really isn’t such a saint, even though you think she is. I’ve known her to play jokes on people before, particularly when it is sort of like a game, as this is, and wouldn’t harm anybody.”
“But it harms me!” sobbed Lily. “I’m scared to death about her.”
“No, Lily, don’t be that!” urged Miss Phillips; “we mustn’t give up yet!”
“And don’t forget,” added Ruth, “that Frieda Hammer’s with Marj—and the whole idea may be hers.”