It was impossible to fathom the mystery which had wound itself about that name, but if a letter had been waiting for him all this time in the wild wood, he certainly ought to have it as soon as possible.
CHAPTER XVII.—A MORNING CALL.
One morning, a few days after the visit to Virginia’s home, the Motor Maids and Miss Helen Campbell received a surprise. Never was anything more utterly unexpected than the event which I am now about to record.
They were in their rooms preparing for an after-breakfast dash in the Comet, when there was a tap on Miss Helen’s door.
“See who it is,” she said to Elinor, the one Motor Maid who knew how to fasten the little lady’s blue veil to her satisfaction.
The knock proved to be a bellboy with a sealed note.
“It’s addressed to Miss Helen Campbell and the Motor Maids,” said Elinor laughing. “Some one who knows us, evidently. Shall I open it?”
“Of course, my dear,” answered Miss Campbell, busy at the mirror with her headgear, just as the rest of the maids came in.
Elinor tore off the end of the envelope and took out two cards, while the others with young-girl curiosity made haste to look over her shoulder.
On a piece of folded note paper was written: