Billie thanked the storekeeper for this precious information and fairly ran out to the street.
The bent old fellow peered after her and thoughtfully scratched his head.
“Girls are queer creatures,” he philosophized. “Now, what in the world does she want to go seeing Dan Larkin for? The way she rushed out into the street, you’d think her life depended on it. It does beat all.”
Billie had heard of the Derry farm. It was situated on the outskirts of town. It had long been deserted and the rambling old homestead was said by some to be haunted.
Billie might have walked, but, such was her impatience, she hailed the nearest street car. No time was to be lost! She opened her purse to make sure the five dollar bill with the dark irregular blot across its face was still there.
“The clue!” she murmured, a strange gleam in her eye. “If it only turns out to be the right one!”
Billie left the street car on the edge of town and walked down a country lane. At the end of it was a queer contraption on wheels, a covered motor truck with windows cut in it and a door at the back. This was, undoubtedly, Dan Larkin’s traveling store.
Billie hurried forward. Before the rude, ladder-like steps of the “store” she hesitated, but voices from within reassured her.
Dan Larkin was dealing with a customer. He was wrapping up a large parcel when Billie Bradley entered.
The customer lingered, exchanging reminiscences with the grizzled old fellow behind the counter. She went at last, however, and Billie fumbled in her purse for the stained five dollar bill.