“Poor old Dreda!” said Barbara sympathetically. “Hard lines, when she has worked so hard! The Duck will be down upon her like a ton of bricks. She loathes untidiness. Poor old Dreda—she’ll get a rowing instead of praise. It’s tragic when you think of that fine cover, and all the beautiful black letters!”
“She’s been an awful bore. It will do her good to be taken down a bit.”
“Poor Dreda all the same. Things that do you good are so very disagreeable. I like her enthusiasm, when it doesn’t interfere with me! And she’s a real good sort. A bore at times, but a good little meaner.”
“It’s no use meaning, if you don’t perform, where The Duck is concerned. I wouldn’t be in her shoes.”
Meanwhile Dreda had turned out the contents of her desk for a second time, while Susan stood anxiously looking on. When the last paper had fluttered to the ground, the two girls faced one another in eloquent silence.
“It isn’t there,” said Susan at last. “There must be some mistake. Think, dear! Are you quite sure that you put it here, and nowhere else? What did you do after you finished binding the papers? Where did you go? Think of everything you did.”
“But I did nothing!” cried Dreda miserably. “I only dressed and went down to supper. I never took it out of this room at all—I’m certain, positive—as certain as I’m alive!”
“But we could look. It is worth while looking. We must find it!”
But at this very moment the door of Miss Drake’s room opened, and a quick voice called out a summons.
“Dreda! I am waiting. Kindly come at once.”