ying to find her son. That might have some effect upon
her."

"Upon whom?" asked Mollie, nearly running the car into a tree by the
roadside in an effort to get a glimpse of Betty.

"Oh, Mollie, do be careful," cried Amy plaintively. "I never come out with
you but what I expect to be killed."

"I should think you'd be tired expecting by this time," returned Mollie
practically. "Now will you please repeat that somewhat meaningless jumble
of words, Betty dear? What was it--something about somebody's son having a
good effect upon somebody--"

"Well, I hope you feel better, now that you've gotten it out of your
system," drawled Grace. "Now, Betty, go on. I'll keep her quiet with
chocolates till you've had your say."

"Go on talking all night, will you, Betty dear?" entreated Mollie,
speaking thickly because of a mouthful of chocolate. "Home was never--"
But here Grace inserted another bonbon so deftly that Mollie choked and
almost precipitated another appalling accident.

"For goodness sakes, hurry, Betty!" cried Amy, in dismay. "If you don't,
there won't be anything of us left to listen to you."

"Well," said Betty obediently, for she had been so busy with her own
thoughts that half the persiflage and gay bantering had passed above her
head, "I was speaking of Mrs. Sanderson and her son. I thought that if we
told her we were trying to find her Willie, she might consent to stay on
with us a little longer."

"But wouldn't that be rather raising false hopes?" objected Grace. "We
haven't very much chance of really making such a promise good, you know."

"Well, but if we tried hard enough we might think of something," Betty
insisted. "We might," she added vaguely, "We might--advertise--"

"In what?" queried Amy.

"The papers, of course," Betty answered impatiently.

"Well," said Mollie, chewing down the last bit of chocolate and speaking
thoughtfully, "there may be something in your idea, at that, Betty. I
don't know about the others, but I'm with you, anyway."

CHAPTER XII

WHERE LOVE IS DEAF

"Doesn't it seem funny," Amy was saying as she daintily but thoroughly
gnawed a chicken bone, "not to have the boys with us?"

"Well I think," returned Mollie, her nose at an independent angle, "that
it's mighty nice--for a change."

"Yes," Grace agreed, employing her paper napkin to remedy the damage done
by a vivid spot of jelly on her skirt. "They seem to think they can
dictate to us. Imagine it! To us! Out