It occurred to her that her friend might have dispatched the invitation upon the impulse of the moment, and then, in the rush of social affairs which always engulfed her, forgotten about it. Enid was generous to a fault but she was apt to be careless too. In school she had been known to make rash promises which she promptly forgot.
“If I’ve traveled all the way from Loon Lake, Canada, to participate in a mythical yacht cruise, I’ll never forgive her,” Madge assured herself.
Time dragged slowly. She made innumerable trips to the water fountain, she experimented with the gum machine and even tried to interest herself in a magazine. At length, after more than an hour had passed, she arose impatiently.
“I don’t believe she’s coming,” she decided. “There’s no sense in waiting here forever.”
After a brief debate, she walked over to an information window.
“I know this isn’t in your line,” she said apologetically to the young man in charge, “but I’m trying to locate a party by the name of Burnett. You’re not acquainted with anyone by that name?”
“You don’t mean Frank Burnett, the yachtsman?”
Madge nodded eagerly.
“I can’t say I know him,” the other informed, “but I did see by the paper that his yacht had dropped anchor in the bay. It came in yesterday, I believe.”
This information left Madge more puzzled than before. If The Flora had arrived at Cheltham Bay, she could think of no reason for Enid’s failure to meet her.