“Father, am I ever rude to anyone?”
Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. “There’s something mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold of that brother of yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell what he’s been up to this week—and make him tell the truth.”
“Mr. Wilder!” Nannie was reproachful. “You don’t know Jerry; he’s incapable of telling anything but the truth.”
Constance tittered.
“What are you laughing at, Constance?”
“Nothing—only it’s so funny. Why don’t you advertise for him? Lost—a young man, age twenty-eight, height, five feet eleven, weight one hundred and seventy pounds, dark hair, gray eyes, slight scar over left eye brow; dressed when last seen in double breasted blue serge suit and brown russet shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal reward.”
“He isn’t lost,” said Nannie. “We know where he is perfectly; he’s at the Hotel Sole d’ Oro in Riva, and that’s at the other end of the lake. We’re going up on the afternoon boat to join him.”
“Oh!” said Constance, meekly.
“You take my advice,” Mr. Wilder put in. “Go up to Riva if you must—it’s a pleasant trip—but leave your luggage here. See this young man in person and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as good mountains as he’ll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn’t find him—”
“Of course, we’ll find him!” said Nannie.