“Yes,” answered Marjorie. “Listen!”
Curled up on the same bed, Marjorie proceeded to tell what she had correctly guessed to be the truth—that Harold Mason, in disguise, was really the old man. She described his appearance, and showed the grey hair. Then, too, she reminded Lily of his embarrassment at seeing it, and his urgent desire to make his escape.
“And that accident was all cooked up, too,” she concluded. “Of course he couldn’t make Frieda want to drive the car, and run into a tree, but he was going to get around it somehow—to make us late for the meet.”
Lily was so angry now that she could scarcely sit still.
“And do you suppose that Ruth knew all about it?”
“Positively!”
“I’m going to go accuse her, this very minute!” flashed Lily, jumping off the bed.
“Don’t Lil; it won’t do any good. She’ll deny that she had any part in it. But I’ve let her know that I have solved the problem, and she’s pretty uncomfortable when I’m around. The best thing we can do about it is to ignore it—and her, as far as possible, without seeming rude.”
“Well, she’s no longer a friend of mine!” exclaimed Lily.