on such a wild-goose chase, looks kind of fishy, you know," drawled Bob.
"She thinks she is chasing her aunt!" Bobby cried.
"Maybe."
"You don't even know her, Bob," declared Betty haughtily. "You can't judge her character. I am sure she is honest."
"Well," grumbled Bob, "being sure everybody is honest isn't going to get you that locket back, believe me!"
"That's horrid, too! Isn't it, Betty?" demanded Bobby.
"It's sort of, I guess," said Betty, much troubled. "But, oh, Bob! I don't want to think that poor girl found my locket and ran away with it. No, I don't want to believe that. And, anyway, it doesn't help me out a mite. I've got to tell Uncle Dick before he notices that I don't display his pretty present any more. Oh, dear!"
"It's a shame," groaned Bobby, holding her chum's hand tightly.
"Guess there are worse things than measles in this world," observed Bob, as he stopped the small car under the porte cochère at Fairfields.
