"A little while ago," resumed Carrie, "I read something in a paper referring to my case. It was a legal notice asking for news of my whereabouts, and saying I would hear of something to my advantage by calling on certain lawyers with papers to prove my identity. At first I feared this was a trap on the part of my guardian, but I inquired and learned that the law firm was a reputable one. There is a Mr. Allen Washburn connected with it."
"In Deepdale?" cried Betty, her cheeks flaming.
"Yes. But how did you know?" asked Carrie.
"Oh, I am—slightly acquainted with Mr. Washburn," said Betty, hesitatingly.
"Slightly—is good," murmured Grace.
"So I decided I would go see those lawyers," went on Carrie. " But first I wanted the papers. My guardian had them, but I recalled that the day we came here he placed them on the mantle in this room. I came back to get them, but they were gone, and then I heard a noise—I fainted—and, well, here I am, and you are here too, I see."
"It is quite a mystery," said Betty. "Now, I have this to propose. You come home, with us, and we will take you to Mr. Washburn, or have
