"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Hayward. "They can go by boat all the way. It's a fine trip."
"I'm sure you would enjoy it," said Ruth, smiling at Fenn.
"Then we'll go!" exclaimed Stumpy, with more energy than the occasion seemed to call for.
"I wish you would," added Mr. Hayward, and then he and Mr. Masterson began a discussion of business matters.
A little later that evening Fenn, going in the parlor for a book, saw Ruth sitting there in the darkness.
"What's the matter?" he asked with ready sympathy. "Are you ill? Shall I call my mother?"
"No--no, I'm all right--I'll be all right in a little while. Please don't call any one," and the girl seemed much alarmed. "I--I was just thinking of--"
"Is there anything worrying you?" asked Fenn boldly, as the memory of what she had said in her delirium came back to him. "Can I do anything to help you? Is it about a cave?"
"Hush!" exclaimed Ruth, in such tones that Fenn was startled. "Don't speak of that. Oh, I don't know why I mentioned it. I was not myself! Forget it, please. It might cause a dreadful--Oh, I can't talk about it!"
She was whispering tensely, and she came close to Fenn. In the next room Mr. Hayward could be heard telling Mr. Masterson something about his large business interests.
"Don't let my father hear you," pleaded Ruth.
"But perhaps I can help you," insisted Fenn.
"No--no one can--at least not now," she said. "Don't ask me. I must go now. Good-night," and she hurried from the room, leaving a much-puzzled lad behind. He forgot all about the book he wanted, so wrought up was he over what Ruth had said. He decided it would not be proper to question her any further, though he wanted very much to aid her if he could.
The next morning Mr. Hayward announced that he felt well enough to proceed. The auto had been repaired, and the gentleman and his daughter, bidding their hosts farewell, started off. They had decided to return home, as Ruth was so upset over the accident that a camping trip was out of the question.
"Now don't forget, I expect you boys out to visit me," called Mr. Hayward, as the four chums waved their hands to father and daughter when the auto puffed off. "Come early and stay late!"
"Poor girl," murmured Mrs. Masterson, as she went back into the house. "She seems worried over something, but I don't see what it can be, for her father is very wealthy, according to his talk, and she has everything she wants. Maybe she misses her mother. She told me she had been dead only a few years."