Grace laughed indulgently.
"Just how do you expect to solve this mystery?" she asked, with a giggle. "You certainly can't do it by looking at him."
"Oh well, if that's the way you feel," retorted Mollie, feeling very much abused, "I'm sorry I spoke about it. Only I thought we had already decided to pay him a visit."
"And so we had," said Betty, closing the dresser drawer with a bang and coming unexpectedly to her aid. "And I, for one, am with you in that, Mollie. I have felt from the first," she went on earnestly, while Mollie regarded her with growing hope, "that I had not only heard the selection that that man played but that I had seen him somewhere before—quite a long time ago."
Impressed by Betty's earnestness, Grace had laid down her magazine and Amy was becoming interested.
"I know it's ridiculous," Betty continued, as though to justify herself, "but I can't help feeling that way, just the same."
"That thing he played sounded familiar to me, too," Grace admitted, now entirely abandoning her magazine and sitting up. "It has been haunting me ever since we heard him playing that day, and yet I can't think of the name of it."
Softly Amy began to hum a popular song, but Mollie interrupted her impatiently.
"Well then, since you all feel that way about it," she said eagerly, "I don't see why it wouldn't be fun to scout around his cabin a little bit and see if we can't pick up some information. I'm really curious about him."
"All right, let's," said Betty, with the decision for which she was famed. "Get your riding togs on, girls, and we'll play detective."