“Would the boys have anything in their camp, do you suppose?” asked Bess, with a long sigh.
“Anything for what?” asked Lottie, as she looked surreptitiously into the mirror of her vanity box. Lottie was always worried about the effect of late hours.
“Is it something to eat?” asked Marita in her timid way. “If you want that, Bess, I’ll go over and help you carry it.”
“Gracious, I hope we don’t need anything in the food line,” said Cora. “I thought we stocked up with enough to last the rest of the week.”
“I want something for my nerves,” went on Bess. “They’re on the ragged edge, and I jump at every sound.”
“And no wonder,” agreed Belle, as she went over to a hammock suspended between two trees. “Get something for mine, while you’re at it, Bess. I think they use bromide, or something like that. But I doubt if the boys would have any. They don’t seem to have a nerve in their bodies, though goodness knows they’re ‘nervy’ enough at other times. Pardon the colloquialism,” she murmured as she sank back.
It was the morning after Freda’s return, and the night had been rather a troubled one. No one in the girls’ camp felt much like eating breakfast, though they managed to nibble at a bit of toast and drink some coffee.
The alarm about Freda had giver the motor girls the keenest anxiety, and while Jack and the boys tried to make Freda and the girls believe the woman and the telephone message had been a joke, it looked to be too serious a matter to be lightly passed off.
The odd woman who had met Freda at the country junction had shown, by her questions, that she knew much about the disputed property. And her manner had been, in a way, rather threatening. It was too unusual to have been accidental, at any rate.
But Freda had reached home in safety. The motor girls were glad of that, but they were all suffering from a bad case of nerves, though, so far, Bess and Belle had been the only ones to admit it openly.