The familiar toot of the Flyaway’s horn interrupted her.
“There they are now,” declared Cora. “My! what a full evening we have had. I feel almost too flustrated to meet your Western friends,” and she smoothed out various discrepancies in her toilette.
“Come on, Belle,” called Bess from the machine. “We can’t come up. It’s too late, Cora!” she continued to call, “come here a moment. I want to tell you something.”
At this Cora and Belle went down to the roadway. Bess was in the Flyaway with her mother and a strange lady, while down near the turn, at the corner, the lights of Mr. Robinson’s carriage could be seen flickering in the summer night’s shadows. He had not gone on the long road taken by the auto and in consequence, the two vehicles had arrived at the same time.
“Cora,” began Bess, without introducing the stranger, “we have had the strangest experience! Away out on the river road we thought we heard the cry of a young girl! Yes, and we saw something white run across the road, in such a lonely place!”
“Mercy!” interrupted Belle. “I am glad I was not along.”
“Well, papa happened to meet us there and stopped, and the coachman got out, and we looked all over the place with our lamps in hand, and see what we found!”
In the uncertain light Cora could not at once make out just what was the object Bess held up for her inspection.
“Don’t you recognize it?” asked Bess. “Why, it’s Nellie’s gingham dress; the very one she wore the other day.”
“Oh,” gasped Belle, “do you suppose they have drowned themselves!”