toward the side door, watched his
chance, and slipped it into the mail box.

There was much excitement on the front piazza, because the guests had
arrived in the barge but a few moments before, and Mrs. Paxton had given
a maid a generous "tip" to go over to the Merlington, and bring Floretta
back with her.

"She returned with the party that came from the Merlington, and I don't
wish her to remain there. I want her to come right back to me," said
Mrs. Paxton.

"Very well, ma'am," the maid had replied, and with the coins in her
hand, had started off at once toward the other hotel.

When little Jack Tiverton ran around to the front piazza, the maid had
just returned.

"If you please, Mrs. Paxton, your little girl isn't over to the
Merlington, and hasn't been there, and a lady that was with the party
that came home from the mountain trip, says the child wasn't in their
barge at all. I asked her if she was _sure_, and she said, she couldn't
help being sure, because there wasn't _any_ child in their barge."

Of course excitement reigned supreme. Mrs. Paxton seemed half wild, and
every one shared her anxiety.

The fact that Floretta was not a favorite made no difference. No one
liked to think of a little girl out there alone on the mountain path, or
in the woods, especially as it was already late afternoon.

"What a dreadful thing!" cried Mrs. Paxton, wringing her hands, and
walking up and down the piazza.

"Who will go with me? I cannot go alone, and where, _where_ shall we
look first? Who saw her last?"

At this moment a man-servant came out from the hall with a tray of
letters that he began to distribute.

"One for you, Mrs. Paxton," said the man, as he touched her arm gently.

"Oh, I can't think of letters now," she said, but something about the
note seemed so unusual that she looked at it.

She drew off the string that had been loosely tied, and read the hastily
scrawled lines.

She screamed, and Aunt Charlotte, who was standing near her, put her arm
around her and supported her, or she would have fallen.

Many of those who gathered around Mrs. Paxton were inclined to think the
note a hoax, but Mrs. Dainty, coming forward, lifted her handsome head,
and looking at the men who were lounging comfortably in the large
rockers, or sitting upon the piazza railing, spoke the word that spurred
them to action.

"Is it safe to _guess_ that this is a joke? True, it is written in a
boyish hand, and while it _may_