"I was just
thinking that we might persuade her to stay longer on the plea that we
wanted to bring the motorcyclist to justice and needed her
identification."
Amy looked a little disappointed.
"Well, I don't know," she said doubtfully. "She said the other day that
she didn't care much about bringing the fellow to justice. She said one
motorcyclist was as bad as another, and the only thing that would give her
satisfaction would be 'to arrest the whole tribe o' them.'"
Betty laughed a little at the characteristic remark, but her eyes were
troubled.
"Well," she said with a sigh, "I suppose you're right. She is rather hard
to reason with at times. If only I could think of something."
The sharp toot of a horn as Mollie grazed the curb with the huge touring
car put an end to the conversation for the time being. Grace was already
on the porch, and as they raced down the steps the girls' spirits rose
happily.
After all, it was a perfect summer day, the sun shone brilliantly down
upon them, the wind caressed their faces, and, above all, they were young.
It was not till they were several miles out upon the shining road that
Betty once more thought of Mrs. Sanderson.
"We might," she said thoughtfully, as though speaking to herself, "tell
her that we were trying 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.
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