"It's very mysterious," went on Cleo, "and when Mary mentioned the name Dunbar to him he seemed to recall it somehow. I asked him if he ever knew anyone named Dunbar, and he passed it off on his brain playing queer tricks on him. But all the same he did seem to have a memory of it."
"Now, Cleo Harris, don't you dare go getting Mary in your family," ordered Grace, jokingly. "It would be just Cleoistic to have it turn out that way. No, Mary is going to be a princess, to suit Madaline this time. Let's sit down here on the bridge and try to figure it all out," she proposed.
The broad stone coping over the little stream offered an attractive resting place for the self-appointed delegates, and the twilight hour a most opportune time for their conference.
"I am going to do two things first——" began Cleo.
"Oh, I wouldn't," mocked Grace. "I would do one thing first, the other way would be woozy."
"Now you know what I mean, and this isn't a grammar test," pouted Cleo. "Well, then, first, I am going to write to Uncle Guy. He knows so much about detective work—all writers do, you know, and I feel he could help us solve the mystery. I am going to send him that picture we took the other day, so he can see what Mary looks like."
"I think that is really a brilliant idea, Cleo," said Grace, seriously. "There might be some reason for Professor Benson noticing the name Dunbar. Even if I do take the risk of you getting in a claim, still, I have to be fair," and she squeezed the arm that lay over her own. "I think the pictures are splendid. I sent one to Margaret. Somehow I feel a little lonely for Margaret, don't you?"
"Yes, it would have been lovely for her to share all this, but perhaps they may come to New York before the season is over. Let us hope so. Now, for my second big idea: I am going to make inquiries at the New York museum about exploring parties. They may have records of the scientific men who went to the tropics for orchids, and I may be able to solve some of the mystery that way."
"Say, Cleo," said Grace, dimpling and making pretty faces at the slanting rays dipping into the brook from the early nightfall, "I do believe you are related to your Uncle Guy, the writer, for you have such original ideas. However did you think of that?"
"Oh, it is not original, really, Grace. I saw an account of a report of such an expedition in one of Uncle Guy's magazines, and that gave me the idea."