"Found them down between these two rocks," he explained. "They must belong to Mr. Harley's little boys. And that isn't all—look here!"
Bobby was so excited his hands shook. He spread three or four stained sheets of paper on the ground.
"It looks like a letter," said Meg, puzzled.
"It is," announced Bobby triumphantly. "I can't read it very well, 'cause the writing goes together, but see here's the beginning: 'My dearest Lou,'—that must be Mrs. Harley."
"Show us where you found 'em," demanded the twins. "Right down in those little rocks?"
"It's a kind of cave," said Bobby. "See, in between there's a hollow place and I was just going to see how far it went. It's lined with bricks in there."
"My d-e-a-r-e-s-t L-o-u," spelled Meg, who could not read as well as Bobby. "Oh, Bobby, hurry and let Mother read it. Maybe it will say where Mrs. Harley went."
No going through the woods this time. The four little Blossoms ran as hard as they could, making every possible short cut and paying no attention to inquisitive bushes that reached out brier fingers and tore their clothes. Meg carried the cups and Bobby the letter, and when they reached the bungalow they were all so breathless that at first they could not speak.
"Oh, Mother!" gasped Bobby, when he could speak, "we found a letter to Mrs. Harley. At least we think it is to Mrs. Harley. Back of some rocks. You read it."
"Does it say where she went?" cried Dot, dancing up and down impatiently. "Does it say where she went, Mother?"