he added gratefully. "Does your Uncle Dick play?"
"I don't really know," replied the girl, and now her face clouded for an instant. Oh, why didn't she hear from Uncle Dick?
The next few days were filled with sightseeing trips. Betty was kept too busy to have much time to worry, which was fortunate, for no word came from her uncle and no word reached her from Bob Henderson. The Guerins and the Benders wrote to her, and each letter mentioned the fact that Bob had sent a postal from Washington, but that no later word had come from him.
"I met Peabody on the road yesterday," ran a postscript to Norma Guerin's letter, written by her doctor father. "He hinted darkly that Bob had done something that might land him in jail, but I couldn't force out of him what fearful thing Bob had done. I hope the lad hasn't been rash, for Peabody never forgives a wrong, real or fancied."
Betty knew that the farmer's action had to do with the unrecorded deed, but she did not feel that she should make any disclosures in that connection. Of Bob's innocence she was sure, and time would certainly clear him of any implication.
The girls visited the Capitol, seeing the great bronze doors that are nineteen feet high and
