“Yas ma’am, dey done been! Jeff’son yonder in de study a-tellin’ Miss Woodhull ’bout it right dis minute,” and Wesley hurried away to the dining room.
“Apache stolen! Oh——” Sally gasped. She recalled the words which Beverly had spoken the very first hour of their acquaintance: “It would take very little to make me light out for Woodbine.”
Six months had passed since those words had been spoken, and during those months Beverly had known some lonely hours as well as happy ones; she had been made miserable more than once by Miss Bayliss, Miss Stetson and Miss Woodhull, who seemed to have conceived a most unmerited dislike for the girl. Sally knew nothing of Miss Woodhull’s dislike for Admiral Seldon because he had presumed to question her policy, nor could a girl of Sally’s sweet nature possibly understand the smallness of one which would take out upon a defenceless young girl the resentment which she harbored toward her older relative. Nevertheless, that was precisely the situation, and Miss Stetson and Miss Bayliss were Miss Woodhull’s mirrors.
Sally soon found Mrs. Bonnell and together they hurried up stairs. But Mrs. Bonnell was no more successful in getting a response to her calls than the girls had been.
“Sally, can you climb?” she asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Bonnell,” answered Sally wholly bewildered.
“Then crawl through your window and along the roof to Beverly’s. I’m not going to stir up a fuss unless I am compelled to. Look in and tell me what you see. Be careful, dear,” she ended as Sally scuttled over the window sill. They leaned out to watch her. She gave a little cry when she discovered that the room was empty.
“What is it?” they asked in a breath.
“She—she isn’t there at all,” gasped Sally.
“Not there! Raise the window and go in and unfasten the door, Sally. Be quick for the breakfast bell will ring in a few minutes.”