Patricia’s father planned for her a birthday fête, ending with a dance, at the Illingworth Cottage at Samoosic Point, some seven miles from Fair Harbor. Invitations were sent out three days in advance, and Polly looked forward to a pleasant outing.
On the evening before the birthday she went over to see Lilith Brooks. Some arrangements were to be made for the next morning. She found her friend ready for a walk, and the two girls strolled off in the direction of green fields and fewer dwellings.
A car whizzed by, a roadster with yellow wheels. For months afterwards a yellow-wheeled roadster gave Polly a start.
“Wh-why!” gasped Lilith, “that looks just like David!”
“It is,” said Polly quietly.
“I didn’t know he was here.” Lilith’s voice still held its astonishment.
“It is news to me,” laughed Polly; but the laugh did not sound true.
“Who was the girl? Could you tell?”
“I think it was Marietta Converse.”
“It is queer,” Lilith went on, glancing sidewise at her companion. “Do you suppose Marietta rode down from Camp Converse with him?”