“Well, it’s too bad, but I’m afraid you can’t get back to Crystal Bay to-night,” declared the hackman. “The last train has gone.”
“The last train gone!” gasped Freda. “Oh, what am I to do?”
“Now don’t you worry a mite,” replied Dick. “I’ll just take you home to my wife, and she’ll look after you. Don’t you worry,” and, after some persuasion he prevailed on Freda to go in his ramshackle rig to his home, where she was kindly received by his wife.
“I’ll go back to the station to meet the express that sometimes stops at the Junction,” explained Dick, “and, Miss, if there come any inquiries for you I’ll tell where you are. But you’ll have to stay with us till mornin’, I reckon.”
Freda’s mind was easier now, but she could not imagine what had been the object of the strange woman, nor why she had sent the telegram.
Meanwhile, back in the bungalow, there was much alarm when Freda was missed. And when her mother came home safely, and found her daughter gone, she almost collapsed.
“Where can she have gone?” she wailed.
Hasty inquiries were made, and one of the boatmen told of having seen Freda start out through the woods, and meet the station messenger boy. After that it was easy to trace her.
Mr. Burke told of the ’phone message, and of having seen Freda board the train for the Junction.
And then a new difficulty arose. There was no train to the Junction that night; but Mrs. Lewis was in such a state that nothing short of a visit to the place would satisfy her. There was no telephone available then, the Junction station being closed.