s she aided her charge down the hillside.

She must steady her own nerves, or the result might be quite as serious.
She had allowed the loss of her scenario to shake her usual calm. She
knew she had not been acting like herself during this automobile journey
and that she had given her friends cause for alarm.

Then and there Ruth determined to talk no more about her loss or her fears
regarding the missing scenario. If it was gone, it was gone. That was all
there was to it. She would no longer worry her friends and disturb her own
mental poise by ruminating upon her misfortune.

When she and the lost woman got out of the ravine, Ruth could hear the
girls calling her. And there was Colonel Marchand's horizon-blue uniform
in sight as he toiled up the ascent, looking for her.

"Don't be frightened, dear," Ruth said to the startled woman. "These are
my friends."

Then she called to Helen that she was coming. Colonel Marchand hurried
forward with an amazed question.

"Never mind! Don't bother her," Ruth said. "The poor creature has been
through enough--out in all this storm, alone. We must get her to where she
is stopping as soon as possible. See the condition her clothes are in!"

"But, Mademoiselle Ruth!" gasped the Frenchman. "We are stalled until
Captain Tom comes back with the gasoline--is it not?"

"We are going to have gas in a very few minutes," returned Ruth gaily. "I
did more than find this poor woman up on the hill. Wait!"

Helen and Jennie sprang at Ruth like a pair of terriers after a cat,
demanding information and explanation all in a breath. But when they
realized the state of mind of the strange woman, they calmed down.

They wrapped her in a dry raincoat and put her in the back of the big car.
She remained quietly there with Jennie's Aunt Kate while Ruth related her
adventure with Mr. Peterby Paul and the "Whosis."

"Goodness!" gasped Helen, "I guess he named her rightly. There must be
something altogether wrong with the poor creature to make her wander about
these wet woods, screeching like a loon."

"I'd screech, too," said Jennie Stone, "if I'd torn a perfectly good silk
dress to tatters as she has."

"Think of going huckleberrying in a frock like that," murmured Ruth. "I
guess you are both right. And Mr. Peterby Paul did have good reason for
calling her a 'Whosis'."

CHAPTER XII

ALONGSHORE

Mr. Peterby Paul appeared after a short time striding down the wooded
hillside balancing