As Jack had said, her pretty green dress was spread out in readiness. The little green slippers stood near by, and the green cap and gilt harp lay on the couch. Surely Betty had not begun to dress. She must have been called away by some one suddenly. Her kimono was flung across a chair as if hurriedly thrown there, and Dorothy looked in the dress-cupboard to see what Betty might be wearing. But there were many suits and dresses hanging there, and Dorothy couldn’t tell which, if any, pretty summer costume was missing. It was very mysterious, and she went slowly down-stairs again, wondering what they should do. “She’s been kidnapped,” Mrs. McGuire was saying; “I’ve always feared it!” “Nonsense!” said Mrs. Van Court, an elderly lady, who was Mr. Dick’s mother. “Of course she hasn’t been kidnapped. I think she has fallen in the pond.” Jack laughed at this. “Oh, no, Mrs. Van Court,” he said; “Betty is too big a girl to tumble into the water. I think some one on some committee wanted her to look after some booth or something, and she’s about the place somewhere.” “That’s all very well,” said Dick Van Court, “but if I know Betty, she’d attend to the matter and be back in time for the march at three o’clock.” “It’s after three now,” said Dorothy. “Whatever can we do?” Nobody knew just what to do. It didn’t seem possible that anything unfortunate had occurred, and yet what else could be keeping Betty away, wherever she was? Meanwhile what had become of Betty? Well, it was just this: While she was in her own room, just about to dress in her green suit, a note was brought to her by one of the servants. The note read thus: “Deer Bety: Susie isent going to the Forth a July Party atall. She’s mad at you. “Jennie Hale.” Jennie Hale was Susie’s younger sister, and Betty saw at once that she had written this note without Susie’s knowledge. But for Susie, the president of the club, to stay away from the garden-party would be a catastrophe indeed! Betty would be censured for making trouble, and Susie’s friends would say all sorts of things. It was hard on Betty. She had truly tried to make friends with Susie, and thought she had overcome the girl’s silly jealousy. What especial thing Susie was “mad at” now, Betty didn’t know. But she must find out, and make peace, if possible, before time for the garden-party to begin. She looked at her watch. It was a quarter past two. If she went right over to Susie’s she might fix it up, and get back in time to dress. She flung off her kimono, and quickly donned a linen suit, selecting the one she could get into most easily. Then she ran down-stairs, and, without a hat or gloves, jumped into the pony-cart, to which Dixie had been harnessed all day, in case of errands, and drove rapidly down the road toward Susie’s. It happened that no one noticed her going, but Betty did not think of this, so engrossed was she in the matter in hand.