“Yes, I would if I saw her, but I won’t see her before you do—on Saturday. Because I don’t feel as if it were the sort of thing to communicate in a letter,” he added.
“No, neither do I,” agreed Marjorie.
“And after all, we have only four days to wait!”
Four days! Marjorie kept repeating the words over and over to herself, as if in some way she might learn patience from them. Hardly was she in her own house when she told her mother the whole story, and would talk of nothing else. It seemed as if the ranch and the summer’s pleasures were forgotten; her only thought was to solve this mystery about Olive, and to render this inestimable good turn to Kirk and the members of Daisy’s family. She displayed no interest at all in shopping, or in preparing for college. After one day passed, she decided that she could not possibly wait until Saturday to know the best—or the worst. She must go to Cape May, immediately; she could not sleep until she had found out.
“I’m going to telegraph Mrs. Hadley,” she told her mother on Thursday morning. “I hardly slept at all last night, and I am so restless I can’t do anything in the day time.”
“But my dear,” remonstrated her mother, “there really isn’t one chance in a hundred of this girl’s being Olive Gravers. There are so many of these amnesia victims—you read about them every day in the papers. Or this Snyder girl might be an escaped criminal, hiding under some such pretence.”
Marjorie looked hurt at her mother’s words.
“And besides—there’s the dressmaker. It’s very important for you to be here to get your new clothes ready for college.”
“Bother clothes!” cried the girl, with her usual indifference. “I’m going to Cape May—this very afternoon—unless you forbid it!”
“Do as you like,” sighed Mrs. Wilkinson with resignation.