As she stood pondering, Honey put a sympathetic arm around her.
“Our sign accomplished something, anyway,” she said reassuringly. “It gave us a mystery to solve.”
“Just the same, it was a foolish thing to do. Let’s walk back to the main road and take it down before anyone else sees it,” Judy suggested.
“Do we have to,” Honey said plaintively, “after all my work?”
“I’m afraid we do, Honey. We’ve invited trouble, not tourists. How do we know those men weren’t criminals trying to find out something about Peter?”
“But Judy, you said yourself there was no danger,” Honey protested, hurrying to keep up with her. They had crossed Dry Brook and were climbing the slope toward the main road where they had posted the sign. “One of those men was Mr. Montrose. At least, he had signs lettered for the Montrose Moving Company, and they’re well known in Farringdon.”
“But the others? Who were they and why were they so interested in exploring our property? No, I think that sign will have to come down. I only hope it comes down easier than it went up. You’ll have to help me with it, Honey.”
“I will. I wish—”
Honey’s wish was never expressed, as a two-toned convertible the color of coffee and cream, and rather the worse for hard use, slowed to a stop beside them. At the wheel of the car sat Judy’s brother Horace, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“So my sister is running a tourist camp,” he said to Honey, observing the sign which she and Judy were now struggling to remove from the post where they had nailed it.