Mary Louise related the story of her visit to Margaret Detweiler’s former boarding house and the scant information she had obtained. “Is Center Square far away?” she asked.
“Oh, a couple of hours’ drive, if you have a car. But do you really think it would do you any good to go there? The girl was probably only passing through and stopped at the postoffice to mail her letter to the landlady.”
“Yes, I am afraid that is all there was to it. But I could at least make inquiries, and after all, it’s the only clue I have. I’d never be satisfied if I didn’t do the very best I could to find Margaret for her grandparents.”
Mary Louise stayed a little longer with Mrs. Hilliard; then she went to her own room to dress for dinner. But suddenly she was terribly homesick. Jane and the boys would be coasting all afternoon, she knew, for there would still be plenty of snow left in the country, and there was a dance tonight at another friend’s. Max would be coming for her in his runabout; she would be wearing her blue silk dress—and—and——Her eyes filled with tears. Wasn’t she just being terribly foolish to stay here in Philadelphia, missing all those good times? And for what? There wasn’t a chance in the world that she’d discover the thief, when even the police were unsuccessful.
“But I’ll never learn to be a detective until I try—and—learn to accept failures,” she told herself sternly, and she knew that, all things considered, she had not been foolish. It might be hard at the time to give up all the fun, but in the long run it would be worth it. She ought to be thanking her lucky stars for the chance!
Somewhat reassured, she dressed and went downstairs to the reception room, where the radio was playing. She found the two Walder girls, whom she had met at noontime when Mrs. Macgregor raised the commotion. Mary Louise greeted them cordially.
“It’s beginning to rain,” said Evelyn Walder, “so Sis and I thought we’d stay in tonight and try to get up a game of bridge. Do you play, Mary Lou?”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Mary Louise. “I love it. Whom shall we get for a fourth? Mrs. Hilliard?”
“Mrs. Hilliard doesn’t like to play, and besides, she has to get up and answer the telephone so much that she usually just knits in the evenings. Maybe we can get one of the Fletcher girls.”
“No, I heard Lucy say that they had a date,” returned Ruth Walder.