The two girls hurried away along the private road beside the river, past the Flicks’ and the Robinsons’, then turned up the hill to the Smiths’ house beyond. It was Jane’s first sight of the imposing-looking place at close range. She exclaimed in admiration.
“What a marvelous house! They must be awfully rich!”
“They are,” replied Mary Louise. “But they don’t appreciate this place a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are hardly ever here at all in the summer. Those two boys just run wild. There’s a nurse to look after the little girl—she’s only four years old—but the boys do pretty much as they please and boss the servants around. That’s why Mother and I feel worried about Freckles when he’s with them.”
A sedate-looking butler answered the girls’ ring at the door.
“No, miss,” was his reply to Mary Louise’s question, “the boys haven’t been here all day.”
“Did they expect to go to the picnic tonight on the island?”
“Yes, miss. Steve, the chauffeur, was to take them.”
Mary Louise sighed. There was nothing she could do.
“Well, if my brother comes back here, will you please send him right over to the inn?” she asked. “And tell him to hurry.”
The girls turned away and started back. “It’s going to spoil Mother’s evening,” remarked Mary Louise disconsolately.