The chaperone smiled knowingly; she was not surprised at the girls’ estimate of her friend’s character. Indeed, she had not approved of Miss Vaughn’s hasty action herself, yet she saw the difficulty of her position.
“No, I don’t blame you girls a bit,” she assured them. “I think it was mean to take those strangers’ words in the first place.”
“And you really do believe that we are innocent, don’t you, Mrs. Hart?” demanded Daisy, eagerly.
“I certainly do!” replied the older woman. “If I hadn’t been certain of it, I never would have consented to come with you, for I can’t say that I thoroughly enjoy such a long trip. And then there’s the desert—”
“Oh, the desert is all right!” interrupted Marjorie. “We got through it before, and we will this time. Please don’t worry, Mrs. Hart.”
“No, let’s forget it,” urged Ethel, falling in with Marjorie’s effort to raise the spirits of the party. “We’re safe for tonight—nothing can happen to us now!”
“I hope not!” sighed Lily, who was never quite at ease.
Long after supper was over the girls sat out on the pleasant porch of the hotel and contemplated the loveliness of the scene, trying, it would seem, to absorb enough beauty to last them during the coming days. Then, as darkness came on they grew more and more quiet until Ethel suggested that they go to bed.
“Did you make sure that the car was safe?” asked Lily, as usual. It was a habit of hers to make such an inquiry each night before retiring.
“Yes,” returned Marjorie, laughingly. “The garage-man bolted the big door on the inside, and then let himself out through the office. That’s a dead-latch—and he has the only key in his possession.”