“I’m afraid you’ve been watching too many television thrillers.”
“I guess so,” Judy admitted, laughing shakily. “My theory is wild all right. How do you explain the flute?”
“I don’t. However, I intend to talk to Mr. Krumm tomorrow. If this cottage has a mystery or any possible danger, it is his duty to inform us completely. Now get to bed, Judy. I’ll sit up for awhile.”
Next morning, when Judy awoke from a deep slumber, bright sunlight was streaming through the slats of the venetian blinds. Ardeth already was up and dressed.
“Breakfast in ten minutes,” she informed Judy, giving her a hard shake. “If you don’t get a move on, we’ll not be ready by the time the camp station wagon calls for us.”
“I guess I overslept,” Judy mumbled, pulling out of bed and groping blindly for her shirt and slacks. “Is everything all right?”
“Is everything all right?” Ardeth echoed, starting to air the bed. “What could go wrong so early in the morning?”
“I was just wondering, that’s all,” Judy answered, deciding to postpone the tale of the flute until after breakfast. “What smells so utterly delicious?”
“Bacon. Miss Ward and Virginia are cooking it. We’ve been assigned to the dishes.”
Judy dressed speedily, helped Ardeth tidy the bedroom, and was ready in time to help carry dishes to the breakfast table.