he matter in the hands of a private investigator. He hasn't had
time to reach the camp yet so, of course, we haven't heard from him.
Fairy Godmother has forbidden him to telegraph her at Oakdale. She is
afraid some one may find out about Tom and gossip." The sickness of hope
deferred lay in Grace's eyes as she finished speaking.

"I'm going up to that camp, Grace," announced David with strong
determination. "I'll catch the next train for New York and arrange my
business to-morrow morning. By afternoon I'll be on the way to Tom. If
he is to be found, I shall find him. Who is the man Mrs. Gray has
engaged to clear up the mystery?"

Grace named a man whose professional standing in his particular field
ranked high.

"A very clever man," commented David. "He ought to do something toward
straightening out this snarl."

"We can only hope that he will," was Grace's sad response. "Excuse me,
David, until I call Mother. She is so anxious to see you. Then we had
better go to Aunt Rose. You will find her greatly changed. This trouble
has aged her. She looks 'years old,' rather than 'years young.' That
wonderful spirit of youth has deserted her. It could hardly be
otherwise."

"Poor little Fairy Godmother!" sympathized David. "It's a shame that
trouble like this had to come when all three of you were so happy. I
can't make myself believe that it is good old Tom who's among the
missing. A sturdy, fearless fellow like him can usually be trusted to
take care of himself anywhere. Why, he's tramped all over this country
and never met with any accident that I can remember. You and I know that
something serious has happened this time, though. Tom would never
neglect those he cares for, even in the most trifling matters."

"I am sure of that. Still it's good to hear you say what I know to be
true. Nothing could shake my faith in Tom. It is absolute." Grace spoke
with the frank simplicity of perfect love and trust.

During the short walk that lay between the Harlowe's residence and that
of Mrs. Gray, David cast more than one covert but admiring glance at the
tall, slender girl at his side who bore her difficulties with such
signal sweetness and courage. "What a splendid girl Grace is," was his
thought. Looking back on their earlier days of comradeship, he recalled
gratefully what a power for good she had always been. She had valiantly
steered Anne through the breakers that more than once had threatened
engulfment. Through Grace, his