y can't do it by looking at him."

"Oh well, if that's the way you feel," retorted Mollie, feeling very
much abused, "I'm sorry I spoke about it. Only I thought we had already
decided to pay him a visit."

"And so we had," said Betty, closing the dresser drawer with a bang and
coming unexpectedly to her aid. "And I, for one, am with you in that,
Mollie. I have felt from the first," she went on earnestly, while Mollie
regarded her with growing hope, "that I had not only heard the selection
that that man played but that I had seen him somewhere before--quite a
long time ago."

Impressed by Betty's earnestness, Grace had laid down her magazine and
Amy was becoming interested.

"I know it's ridiculous," Betty continued, as though to justify
herself, "but I can't help feeling that way, just the same."

"That thing he played sounded familiar to me, too," Grace admitted, now
entirely abandoning her magazine and sitting up. "It has been haunting
me ever since we heard him playing that day, and yet I can't think of
the name of it."

Softly Amy began to hum a popular song, but Mollie interrupted her
impatiently.

"Well then, since you all feel that way about it," she said eagerly, "I
don't see why it wouldn't be fun to scout around his cabin a little bit
and see if we can't pick up some information. I'm really curious about
him."

"All right, let's," said Betty, with the decision for which she was
famed. "Get your riding togs on, girls, and we'll play detective."

This time it was Mollie who held back.

"How about the weather?" she demurred. "Looks as if we were likely to
get wet."

"Who cares?" said Betty airily, adding, as she stopped at the door to
make them a little bow: "It would give us an excuse to see His Highness
again."

Half an hour later they had saddled their ponies and were cantering off
briskly to visit the Hermit of Gold Run.

"Aren't you a little bit afraid to go in there?" asked Amy, reining in
as they reached the narrow trail through the woods that led near the
musician's cabin. "We might run into some wolves, as we did that other
time."

"We were much further in the woods than the Hermit's cabin," said Mollie
impatiently. "And it was in an entirely different direction, too. Go
ahead, silly, or I'll ride right over you," and as she was urging Old
Nick forward until he crowded uncomfortably against the little white
filly, Amy had no other course but to do as she was bid.

Nevertheless, she w