Mr. McCarthy and Mrs. Livingston again sat down and
continued their conversation. Tommy, now being without a guardian,
Miss Elting having gone with Jane and her party, started down toward
the beach, her eyes very bright, her movements quick and alert. Some
of the girls whom she met asked where she was going. Tommy replied
that she might go fishing, but that she couldn't say for sure until
she found out whether she could catch anything. The little girl kept
edging farther and farther away from her companions, until finally,
finding herself beyond sight of them, began running with all her
might. They saw no more of Tommy Thompson for several hours.
While all this was going on, Jane McCarthy was racing her father's car
up and down the road at an ever-increasing rate of speed. Those in the
camp could hear the purr of the motors, and now and then a flash of
red showed between the trees as the car sped past the camp.
"Must be doing close to fifty miles an hour," observed Mr. McCarthy,
grinning.
"Aren't you afraid she will kill herself, or some one else?"
questioned the guardian anxiously.
"She never has. I don't reckon it would bother any of the Meadow-Brook
Girls to go into the ditch. They are pretty well used to getting into
mix-ups.
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