Miss Lord came up to the Lodge that Saturday forenoon and proved soagreeable to Aunt Hannah and the girls that she was invited to stay tolunch. Mr. Conant was not present, for he had put a couple ofsandwiches in his pocket and would not return home until dinner-time.
After luncheon they were all seated together on the benches at the edgeof the bluff, which had become their favorite resort because the viewwas so wonderful. Mary Louise was doing a bit of fancy work, Irene wasreading and Aunt Hannah, as she mended stockings, conversed in adesultory way with her guest.
"If you don't mind," said Agatha, after a time, "I'll run in and get mea book. This seems the place and the hour for dreaming, rather thangossip, and as we are all in a dreamy mood a good old-fashioned romanceseems to me quite fitting for the occasion."
Taking permission for granted, she rose and sauntered toward the house.There was a serious and questioning look in Irene's eyes as theyfollowed the graceful form of Miss Lord, but Mary Louise and AuntHannah paid no heed to their visitor's going in to select a book, itseemed so natural a thing for her to do.
It was fully fifteen minutes before Agatha returned, book in hand.Irene glanced at the title and gave a sigh of relief. Without commenttheir guest resumed her seat and soon appeared to be immersed in hervolume. Gradually the sun crossed the mountain and cast a black shadowover the plain below, a shadow which lengthened and advanced inch byinch until it shrouded the landscape spread beneath them.
"That is my sun-dial," remarked Mary Louise, dropping her needlework towatch the shifting scene. "When the shadow passes the Huddle, it's fouro'clock; by the time it reaches that group of oaks, it is four-thirty;at five o'clock it touches the creek, and then I know it's time to helpAunt Hannah with the dinner."
Agatha laughed.
"Is it really so late?" she asked. "I see the shadow has nearly reachedthe brook."
"Oh! I didn't mean--"
"Of course not; but it's time I ran home, just the same. My maid Susanis a perfect tyrant and scolds me dreadfully if I'm late. May I takethis book home, Irene? I'll return the others I have borrowedto-morrow."
"To be sure," answered Irene. "I'm rich in books, you know."
When Miss Lord went away the party broke up, for Aunt Hannah wasalready thinking of dinner and Mary Louise wanted to make one of UnclePeter's favorite desserts. So Irene wheeled her chair into the houseand entering the den began a sharp inspection of the place, having inmind exactly the way it had looked when last she left it. But presentlyshe breathed a sigh of relief and went into her own room, for the denhad not been disturbed. She wheeled herself to a small table in acorner of her chamber and one glance confirmed her suspicions.
For half an hour she sat quietly thinking, considering many things thatmight prove very important in the near future. The chair-girl knewlittle of life save what she had gleaned from books, but in some waysthat was quite equal to personal experiences. At dinner she asked:
"Did you take a book from my room to-day, Mary Louise?"
"No," was the reply; "I have not been in your room since yesterday."
"Nor you, Aunt Hannah?"
"No, my dear. What book is missing?"
"It was entitled 'The Siberian Exile.'"
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mary Louise. "Wasn't that the book you foundthe letter in?"
"Yes."
"And you say it is missing?"
"It has mysteriously disappeared."
"Nonsense," said Uncle Peter, who had returned with a fine string oftrout. "No one would care to steal an old book, and the thing hasn'tlegs, you know."
"Nevertheless," said Irene gravely, "it is gone."
"And the letter with it!" added Mary Louise regretfully. "You ought tohave let me read it while I could, Irene."
"What letter are you talking about?" asked the lawyer.
"It is nothing important, Uncle Peter," Irene assured him. "The loss ofthe book does not worry me at all."
Nor did it, for she knew the letter was not in it. And, to avoidfurther questioning on the part of Mr. Conant, she managed to turn theconversation to less dangerous subjects.