I'll never forget how good you have
been--Desire."
"I had a feeling," said Aunt Caroline with mournful triumph. "It
never deceives me, never! As I passed our dear girl's room this
morning, I said, 'She is not there'--and she wasn't!"
"I think you mentioned that the door was open."
"That has nothing to do with it. I--"
"Where did you find this note?"
"On her dressing table. When you went into the gar-den, I went
upstairs. I had a feeling--"
"Was there nothing else? No note for me?"
"No," in surprise. "She says you know all about it. Don't you?"
"Something, not all."
Aunt Caroline was, upon occasion, quite capable of meeting a crisis.
Remembering the neglected coffee, she poured a cup for each of them.
"Here," said she, "drink this. You look as if you needed it. I must
say, Benis, that you don't act as if you knew anything, but if you
do, you'd better tell me. Where is Desire?"
"I don't know."
"Umph! Then what you do know won't help us to find her. Finding her
is the first thing. I wonder," thoughtfully, "if she told John?"
A wintry smile passed over the professor's lips.
"I shall ask him," he said.
Aunt Caroline proceeded with her own deducing. "There is no one else
she could have told," she reasoned. "She did not tell you. She did
not tell me. Naturally, she would not tell Mary. And a girl nearly
always tells somebody. So it must be John. I hope you are
sufficiently ashamed of yourself, Benis? I told you Desire wouldn't
understand your attentions to Mary.
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