Mrs. Gay uttered an exclamation of alarm.
“Oh, but I’m all right now, Mother,” her daughter hastened to assure her. “Only I would like something hot to drink. And my own bed to sleep in, if Freckles doesn’t mind changing again.”
“A hot drink?” repeated her brother, in amazement. “Why hot?”
Briefly Jane told the story of Mary Louise’s daring act of heroism, and Mrs. Gay hurried off to make her daughter comfortable for the night.
In their own soft bed again, the girls slept soundly until nearly noon the following day. Mary Louise was vexed with herself for wasting so much time when she saw the lateness of the hour. For if she was to do anything about solving the mystery of the fires she hadn’t a single minute to lose.
“Have you heard any news this morning?” she demanded of her brother as the family all ate their breakfast-lunch together.
“Not much,” replied the boy. “We went over to see the place, of course, as soon as we were up this morning. It must have been some fire! What’s left of the house isn’t fit to live in.... Gee, Sis, you and Jane were lucky to be in on it!”
“Lucky for the Smiths!” amended Mrs. Gay. “I shudder every time I think of what might have happened to little Ethel.”
“Where are the Smiths now?” inquired Jane.
“Moved over to the hotel. The chauffeur telegraphed Mr. Smith, and he and Mrs. Smith are coming this afternoon, with clothes and stuff.”