“Stay here all night!” cried the five young people, as they sank down into five hard wooden chairs in utter despair.

“Harriet, have you seen Ruth’s automobile?” Bab asked, as Charlie Meyers’ car got safely out of Alexandria and started on the road toward Washington.

Harriet and Peter both looked around and strained their eyes in the darkness.  But there was no sign of Ruth or her party.

“Don’t you think we had better go back a little, Charlie?” Harriet now suggested.  “I am afraid you have gotten too far ahead of Ruth for her to follow you.”

“What has Miss Stuart got Hugh Post and Elmer Wilson with her for, if they can’t show her the way to town?” argued the impolite host of the automobile parties.

“I think Charlie is right, Harriet.  I would not worry,” interposed Mrs. Wilson, in her soft tones.  “Elmer may not have known the road during the early part of our trip, but neither one of the boys is very apt to lose his way between Alexandria and Washington.”  Mrs. Wilson laughed at the very absurdity of the idea.

Harriet said nothing more, and, although Bab was by no means satisfied, she felt compelled to hold her peace.

“Will you leave me at my house, Charlie?” Mrs. Wilson demanded, as soon as their automobile reached Washington.  “I know Harriet expects to make a Welsh rarebit for you at her home, but I am going to ask you to excuse me.  I am a good deal older than you children, and I am tired.”

When Barbara reached the Hamlin house she hoped ardently to see the familiar lights of her old friend, A. Bubble waiting outside the door.  But the street was bare of automobiles.

There was nothing to do but to follow the other young people into the house and take off her hat and coat.  But Bab had not the heart to join Harriet in the dining-room where the preparations for making the rarebit were now going on.  She lingered forlornly in the hall.  Every now and then she would peer anxiously out into the darkness.  Still there was no sign of Ruth or any member of her party!  Barbara was wretched.  She was now convinced that some accident had befallen them.

“Come in, Barbara,” called Harriet cheerfully.  “The Welsh rarebit is done and it has to be eaten on the instant.  I will make another for Ruth’s crowd when they get in.  They are certainly awfully slow in arriving.”

“Harriet!” Barbara’s white face appeared at the dining-room door.  “I hate to be a nuisance, but I am dreadfully worried about the other girls.  I know they would have gotten home by this time if nothing had happened to them.”

Poor Barbara had to make a dreadful effort to swallow her pride, for Charlie Meyers had been dreadfully rude to her all afternoon.  “Mr. Meyers,” she pleaded, “won’t you take me back in your car to look for my friends?  I simply can’t bear the suspense any longer.”  Barbara’s eyes were full of tears.

“Oh, Bab, you are foolish to worry,” Harriet protested.  “It would not be worth while for you and Mr. Meyers to go back now.  You would only pass Ruth on the road.  It is nearly midnight.”