ve little heed to
this good-intentioned weather prophet.

She did raise her eyes, however, at the querulous whistle of a striped
creeper that was wriggling through the intertwined branches of the
trumpet-vine in search of insects. Ruth Fielding was always interested in
those busy, helpful little songsters.

"You cute little thing!" she murmured, at last catching sight of the
flashing bird between the stems of the old vine. "I wish I could put _you_
into my scenario."

On the table at which she was sitting was a packet of typewritten sheets
which she had been annotating, and two fat note books. She laid down her
gold-mounted fountain pen as she uttered these words, and then sighed and
pushed her chair back from the table.

Then she stood up suddenly. A sound had startled her. She looked all about
the summer-house--a sharp, suspicious glance. Then she tiptoed to the door
and peered out.

The creeper fluttered away. The robin continued to shout his warning. Had
it really been a rustling in the vines she had heard? Was there somebody
lurking about the summer-house?

She stepped out and looked on both sides. It was then she saw how
threatening the aspect of the clouds on the other side of the river were.
The sight drove from her thoughts for the moment the strange sound she had
heard. She did not take pains to look beneath the summer-house on the
water side.

Instead, another sound assailed her ears. This time one that she could not
mistake for anything but just what it was--the musical horn of Tom
Cameron's automobile. Ruth turned swiftly to look up the road. A dark
maroon car, long and low-hung like a racer, was coming along the road,
leaving a funnel of dust behind it. There were two people in the car.

The girl beside the driver--black-haired and petite--fluttered her
handkerchief in greeting when she saw Ruth standing by the summer-house.
At once the latter ran across the yard, over the gentle rise, and down to
the front gate of the Potter farmhouse. She ran splendidly with a free
stride of untrammeled limbs, but she held one shoulder rather stiffly.

"Oh, Ruth!"

"Oh, Helen!"

The car was at the gate, and Tom brought it to a prompt stop. Helen, his
twin sister, was out of it instantly and almost leaped into the bigger
girl's arms.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" sobbed Helen. "You _are_ alive after all that horrible
experience coming home from Europe."

"And you are alive and safe, dear Helen," responded Ruth Fielding,