which she had subscribed when she left the town, and, tucking it under
her arm, she went on to the house, intending to read an hour or so
before going to bed.

Lighting the lamp in her room, Betty glanced toward her trunk
mechanically. She had left it locked, but the lid was now ajar. Had
some one been tampering with the lock?

"He's opened it!" she cried to herself, making a hasty examination.
"How did he dare! And look at the mess everything's in!"

Alas for Betty's hour of neat and careful packing! Dainty garments
were tossed about recklessly, her shoes rested on her clean
handkerchiefs, and it was plain that no attempt had been made to
conceal the fact that a heavy hand had thoroughly explored the
contents of the trunk.

"I'm only thankful he didn't break the lock," said Betty, trying to
find a ray of brightness. "Whatever he opened it with, nothing is
broken. I suppose the only thing to do is to take everything out and
do it all over. And to-morrow morning I'll sit on the top till Fred
Keppler comes."

Taking out her clothes and repacking was a tiresome job, and all
thoughts of reading well gone from Betty's mind when the task was
completed and the trunk locked for a second time. With the feeling
that, in view of what the next day might bring, she ought to go to
bed early, she began at once to prepare for bed. Brushing her thick,
dark hair, her eyes fell on the unopened paper.