“So was I.”
“This book was absolutely our last hope. If Mr. Brownell comes here tomorrow I must tell him the truth. I’ve kept him waiting so long he’ll be justified in feeling I’ve tricked him. Oh, dear! Why did I get into such a position?”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Madge relapsed into thoughtful silence. At length she said: “I think Clyde is trying to sell Mr. Brownell a formula of his own.”
“I suppose he’ll succeed where I have failed. His formula may not be half as good as Father’s, yet if Mr. Brownell learns there is no hope of getting it he may deal with Clyde.”
Madge acknowledged the truth of this. She had hoped matters might work out to Anne’s advantage but luck had never been with her. To admit defeat seemed the only course.
It was nearly midnight and the girls were tired as well as discouraged. They put aside the apparatus and went to their bedroom, leaving the book lying on the laboratory table. Few words were spoken as they prepared for bed. Anne blew out the light and soon was asleep.
Madge rolled and tossed and remained wide awake. Try as she would, she could not take her mind from the perplexing problem of the formula. She had no real hope of working out a solution yet she kept turning the matter over and over in her mind. Then like a flash, the answer came!
“Anne! Anne!” she cried jubilantly, shaking her chum rudely by the shoulder. “I’ve thought of it at last!”
CHAPTER X
An Unsatisfactory Test
Anne rolled over in bed and groaned.