Ken was off at a run. The Johnson home was at the end of the street. Junior himself opened the door and Ken bent down to question the child. “Is Betty here?” he asked.
The little boy shook his head and muttered, “Nah.” Mrs. Johnson came to the door and he asked her the same question. “Why, no,” she replied. “She never comes. I would like very much for her to come and play with Junior, but she never does. I guess it is a little too far away for her.”
Ken was anxious to be off. “Yes, I guess so,” he answered. “Excuse me.” And he was off.
The McKinly home was across the street. But she was not there either. Ken walked away deeply concerned. Returning home he found his parents awaiting him, their faces drawn and worried. At the news that the child was neither at the Johnsons nor the McKinlys, Mrs. Armstrong clenched her fingers. Her husband stood up. “She must have walked off somewhere,” he said. “I’ll notify the police and have them search for her.”
“Wait a minute, Dad,” cried Ken. “Perhaps she is in her room.”
Without losing a second, he dashed up the stairs. A minute later he was coming down slowly. By the expression on his face the parents could tell that she was not in her room. Mr. Armstrong walked to the foyer where the telephone was and they could hear him calling the police and giving a detailed description of the child. She was five years old, blonde hair and blue eyes, weighed between forty-five and fifty pounds and was about twenty-six or twenty-seven inches tall. His task completed, he returned to the dining room. He put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and said, “Now, don’t worry, Edna. The child most likely has walked off by herself and she will be found. You will have her again in half an hour.”
Ken jumped out of his chair and dashed out of the house. He ran over to the Morrison home and called Paul. Drawing his friend aside, he whispered, “Paul, call the troop together. We cannot find Betty and we have to make a search for her.”
“That’s too bad,” replied Paul. “I’m sure no harm has come to her and we will find her.”
The two boys walked off to call the boys together. Some of the Boy Scouts lived in the immediate neighborhood while the others were reached by telephone. Practically every one of them knew Betty by sight, but just to make sure a description of her was passed around. Within ten minutes the entire Stanhope Troop No. 1 was out on the streets and searching for the child. In the meanwhile the police had also sent out an alarm and were combing the town to find Betty. The news had spread and many townspeople had joined in the search.
For the next half hour every nook and corner of the town was ransacked. Many a little girl was stopped and asked if her name was Betty Armstrong. But always it was a shake of the head and the word no. Suddenly the news spread that the search was off and that the child was safely home. Ken, who was with Paul, sprinted home. The two boys burst into the house and found Betty sitting very calmly at the table having her dinner. Quite innocently she shook a finger a her big brother and scolded him. “You’re late,” she told him. “Mama is angry if you come late for dinner.”