“Well, I wish I knew what you were talking about,” said Vi plaintively, and Billie briefly told of her meeting with Miss Arbuckle in the morning and of the teacher’s grief at losing her precious album.
“Humph! I don’t see anything very precious about it,” sniffed Laura. “Look—the corners are all worn through.”
“Silly, it doesn’t make any difference how old it is,” said Vi as they started back along the path, Billie holding on tight to the book. “It may have pictures in it she wants to save. It may be—what is it they call ’em?—an heirloom or something. And Mother says heirlooms are precious.”
“Well, I know one that isn’t,” said Laura, with a little grimace. “Mother has a wreath made out of hair of different members of the family. She says it’s precious, too; but I notice she keeps it in the darkest corner of the attic.”
“Well, this isn’t a hair wreath, it’s an album,” Billie pointed out. “And I don’t blame Miss Arbuckle for not wanting to lose an album with family pictures in it.”
“But how did she come to lose it there?” asked Laura, as the road could be seen dimly through the trees. “The woods seem a funny place. Girls,” and Laura’s eyes began to shine excitedly, “it’s a mystery!”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Vi plaintively, “there she goes again. Everything has to be a mystery, whether it is or not.”
“But it is, isn’t it?” insisted Laura, turning to Billie for support. “A lady says she has lost an album. In a little while we find that same album——”
“I suppose it’s the same,” put in Billie, looking at the album as if it had not occurred to her before that this might not be Miss Arbuckle’s album, after all.
“Of course it is, silly,” Laura went on impatiently. “It isn’t likely that two people would be foolish enough to lose albums on the same day. If it had been a stick pin now, or a purse——”