“Oh, no,” denied Mollie; “but I am afraid I frightened the countess. I threw some mignonette in the room, trying to make her think I was the ghost, but she didn’t notice it. Then, when I spoke to her to tell her it was time to come downstairs, she was dreadfully startled.”
Mrs. Post ordered the chauffeur to drive home first, as she and the countess had a dinner engagement; the two girls being later taken to Mrs. Ewing’s.
The two women had barely left the car before Mollie put her lips near Grace’s ear and whispered: “Grace Carter, the Countess Bertouche has stolen Mrs. Cartwright’s butterfly! I saw it with my own eyes. She dropped it out of a bag on the floor, when she fell down.”
“Goose!” smiled Grace. “What are you talking about? Don’t you suppose a countess may have a jeweled butterfly of her own?”
“Not like that one,” retorted Mollie, firmly. “I would know it among a thousand. You needn’t believe me, but it’s as true as that my name is Mollie Thurston. I am going to tell Ruth and Bab, as soon as I get home. I know they will believe me.”
“I do believe you, only I am so dumfounded I can’t take it in,” said Grace.
“What on earth is the matter with you, Mollie?” asked Bab of her sister, as soon as they had finished dinner. “You look awfully excited.”
“Bab,” whispered Mollie, “call Ruth and Grace right away. Don’t let anyone else come. Let’s go down to the end of the garden. I have something I must tell you, this minute!”
Grace had already found Ruth, and the two came hurrying along. “No, Ralph,” ordered Grace, “you can’t come. This is strictly a girl’s party.”
“Bab,” began Mollie, “you will believe me, won’t you? I do know what I am talking about. This afternoon I saw the Countess Bertouche with Mrs. Cartwright’s diamond butterfly. She dropped it, right before my eyes, out of the same kind of bag that Miss Sallie uses to keep her jewelry in. What can it mean?”