"Oh, yes, sir. Your chauffeur was with it, and another gentleman." "What sort of looking man was he?" asked Carolyn's friend, and his face grew much more stern in its expression. The little girl explained, prattling away about the dark-browed man and his personal peculiarities without the first idea that she was "telling tales out of school"; for she would have scorned to be a "tattle-tale" had she realized. She did wonder, however, what her friend meant when he muttered: "It was more than an ordinary joy ride that took them away up there--and René was not at the bottom of it. I'll look into _that_. Somebody will have to explain." He put aside his ill-temper in a moment. There was a plan for a picnic the next day but one. Evidently it was a plan he and his wife had already talked over. They would come for the children in the morning and drive them to the South Light, there to have a picnic luncheon. Of course, Mrs. Cameron had to be asked if Carolyn and Edna could go, and the former raced up to the cottage and led her mother down by the hand to give her permission for the outing. It was evident that the haughty looking woman approved of Carolyn's mother. Mrs. Cameron had heard Carolyn talk so much about these people that she felt quite as though she knew them. And yet, she did not even know their name. As neither the man nor the woman mentioned it, she felt some embarrassment at the thought of asking them, pointblank, for that information. She had heard enough about them from Molly Ball and other Island people. They were by far the wealthiest and most important guests at the Orowoc House. She might have been more curious had Carolyn not failed to mention the fact that these very people were those whose motor-car had crushed Baby Laird's go-cart so many weeks before. The invalid's interest in the pale lady's baby, however, did cause Mrs. Cameron some thought at a later time. She could see no reason for refusing to allow the little girls to accompany these people on the proposed outing. "I would love to take the baby, too; but that, I fear, would be impossible," the invalid said. "Do you think his mother would consent?" "I am afraid not. She is watching up there for his return now," said Mrs. Cameron, smiling, and drawing the woman's attention to the figure of Baby Laird's mother with the fresh gale blowing her skirts about her as she stood by the house on the bluff. "Ah, yes," rejoined the invalid, looking at the pale lady's figure in the distance carelessly. "Remarkable what fine children some of these island women have. This baby looks much as my own son did when he was this child's age." Her husband cleared his throat and said sharply: "We shall have to be going. We will stop for the little girls about eleven. Good afternoon. Drive on, George." The coloured man drove on. Not until they had quite gone did Hannah Cameron remember that she had not explained that Baby Laird was not a Block Island child.