“Come, daughter,” interrupted Mrs. Robinson, “we have already heard too much of these two very—indiscreet young persons. Come, Belle, my dear, we must get home. Cora, I would not advise you to waste too much sympathy on the girls from that farm. Evidently they are quite capable of looking after themselves.”
This was said with that authoritative manner used by older, and more prudent persons, when trying to curb the enthusiasm of the inexperienced. Mrs. Robinson was not unkind, but she did not think it wise to let the girls’ sympathy “run away with them,” as her husband put it.
“All right, mamma dear,” replied Belle meekly, really glad to climb into the small seat at the back of the Flyaway and start for home. The detectives had furnished enough excitement, but now came this strange news——
“Oh, I just want to tell Cora one thing more,” said good-natured Bess. “Cora, when we finally did give up the search, and had gone along a little way, a trolley car passed, and it stopped just at that turn in the road where there was an electric light.”
“And couldn’t you see who boarded it?” asked Cora.
“No, it was a park resort car, and just packed full of people, so we didn’t even have a chance to get a glimpse of those who either got on or got off. Well, good night, dear,” and Bess switched on the spark and started the engine without cranking. “I will see you to-morrow. We have got to finish up our plans—for—you know.”
It was the approach of Jack that stopped Bess in her remark. The young man joked about it, and declared that he would soon discover the secret, warning the girls that Cora could never keep good news away from him, and that he felt it in his bones she would tell him about it that very night.
The girls retaliated with the assurance that this time, at least, Jack was not to know their secret, then, when the Flyaway had whirred itself off, Cora and Jack, arm in arm, started back to the porch.
Cora hardly knew how to tell her brother about the jewel box, but she finally managed to explain the peculiar happening.
“Well,” said Jack, when she paused for his opinion, “there’s no use crying over spilled milk. The thing to do, I suppose, is to keep one’s hands off milk. Now, I reckon you will be subjected to a lot of questions, when those fellows come to-morrow.”