# Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp/Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI
A DISAPPEARANCE
There was an exciting conclave at Fairfields that evening. Perhaps I should say two. For in one room given over by the good-natured Mrs. Littell to the young folks there was a most noisy conclave while the older members of the household held a more quiet if no less earnest conference in the library.
There were eight in the young folks' meeting for Mrs. Littell insisted upon Esther's going to bed at a certain hour every evening "to get her beauty sleep."
"And I'll say she is sure to be a raving beauty when she grows up, if she keeps going to bed with the chickens," giggled Bobby.
"You know she can't go to Mountain Camp anyway," Louise said quietly, "for her school isn't measly and it begins again day after to-morrow."
"Poor Esther!" sighed Betty. "We must make it up to her somehow. I was afraid she would cry at dinner this evening."
"She's a good kid," agreed Bobby. "But are ​you sure, Betty, that we can go to the mountains? Just think! Eight of us!"
"Some contract for Mr. Gordon," observed Tommy Tucker with unusual reflection.
"How about it's being some contract for Mr. and Mrs. Canary?" suggested Bob Henderson. "Maybe they will shy at such a crowd."
"I asked Uncle Dick about that," Betty said eagerly. "He told me all about Mr. and Mrs. Canary. He has known them for years and years. They must be awfully nice people and they have got a great, big, rambling bungalow sort of house, all built of logs in the rough. But inside there is a heating plant, and electric lights, and shower baths, and everything up-to-date. Mr. Canary is very wealthy; but his money could not keep him from getting tuber—tuber——"
"'Tubers,'" said Bob with gravity, "are potatoes, or something of that kind."
"Now, Bob! you know what I mean very well," cried Betty. "His lungs were affected. But they have healed and he is perfectly well as long as he stays up there in the wilderness. The air there has wonderful cur—curative properties. There!"
"Look! Will it cure such a bad attack of poetry?" interrupted Bobby, drawing the attention of the others to Timothy Derby and Libbie who, with heads close together, were absorbed in ​a volume of verses the boy had brought with him from home.
"It might help," said Bob. "It ought to be cold enough up there at Mountain Camp to freeze romance into an icicle."
"I hope we all go then," Teddy Tucker agreed. "Our folks have said we could—haven't they, Tom?"
"With suspicious alacrity," agreed his twin. "How's that for a fine phrase, Louise? Do you know, I think mother and dad were almost shocked when they got the telegram from Salsette and knew our vacation was to be prolonged. The idea of Mountain Camp seems to please them."
"Goodness! I know dear Mrs. Littell doesn't feel that way about it," cried Betty.
"She's got girls," said Ted dryly. "You know it is us boys who are not appreciated in this world."
"Yes," said Bob, "you fellows are terribly abused, I'll say. But, now! Are we all sure of going? That's what I want to know."
"Timothy——" began Louise; but Bob held up his hand to stop her.
"I know from his father that Tim can go. Uncle Dick is sure to take us, Betty, isn't he?"
"He sent off a telegram to Mrs. Canary this evening. If she sends back word 'Yes' we can go day after to-morrow."
​"That's all right then," said Bob, quite as eagerly. "The thing to do then is to plan what to take and all that. It is cold up there, but dry. Much colder than it was at school before we came down. Furs, overcoats, boots, mittens—not gloves, for gloves are no good when it is really cold—and underthings that are warm and heavy. We don't want to come back with noses and toes frozen off."
"Humph!" said Bobby scornfully, "what kind of underwear should you advise our getting for our noses, Bob Henderson?"
"Aw—you know what I mean," said the boy, grinning. "Don't depend on a fur piece around your neck and a muff to keep the rest of you warm. Us fellows have all got Mackinaws and boots and such things. And we'll want 'em."
And so they excitedly made their plans. At least, six of them did while Timothy and Libbie bent their minds upon the book. One thing about those two young romanticists, they agreed to the plans the others made and were quite docile.
At ten Timothy and the Tucker twins went home and the others went cheerfully up to bed. While Betty Gordon remained at Fairfields Bobby insisted on sharing her own room with her. They were never separated at Shadyside, so why should they be here?
When she was half undressed Betty suddenly ​went down on her knees before the tall chiffonier and opened the lower drawer. She dug under everything in the drawer until she came to her handbag, and drew it forth.
"I declare!" chuckled Bobby, "I thought you were digging a new burrow like a homeless rabbit. What did you forget?"
"Didn't forget anything," responded Betty, smiling up at her friend. "I remembered something."
"Oh!"
"My locket. Uncle Dick's present. I wanted to see that it was safe."
"Goodness! Do you carry it in your bag?"
"I've got a lovely chain at Shadyside, you know. I told Uncle Dick not to buy a chain. And I don't believe Mrs. Eustice will object to a simple little locket like mine, will she?"
"M-m-m! I don't know," replied Bobby. "You know she is awfully opposed to us girls wearing jewelry. And your locket is lovely. Just think! Platinum and a real diamond. Why! what is the matter, Betty?"
For Betty had begun scrambling in her bag worse than she had in the bureau drawer. Everything came out—purse, tickets, gloves, handkerchief, the tiniest little looking-glass, a letter or two, a silver thimble, two coughdrops stuck together, a sample of ribbon which she had failed ​to match, a most disreputable looking piece of lead-pencil——
But no twist of tissue paper with the locket in it!
"What is the matter?" repeated Bobby, frightened by the expression of the other girl's face.
"I—I——Oh, Bobby! It's gone!" wailed Betty.
"Not your locket?"
"Yes, my locket!" sobbed Betty, and she sat down on the floor and wept.
"Why, it can't be! Who would take it? When did you see it last? Nobody here in the house would have stolen it, Betty."
"It—it must have dropped out of my bag. Oh! what shall I do? I can't tell Uncle Dick."
"He won't punish you for losing it, will he?"
"But think how he'll feel! And how I'll feel!" wailed Betty. "He advised me to put it somewhere for safe keeping until I got my chain. And I wouldn't. I—I wanted it with me."
"You should have put it downstairs in daddy's safe," said Bobby thoughtfully.
"But that doesn't do me a bit of good now," sobbed Betty Gordon.
"Don't you remember where you had it last?" asked her friend slowly.
"In my bag, of course. And I carried my bag to town to-day. Yes! I remember seeing the ​paper it was in at the bottom of my bag more than once while I was shopping. Oh, dear! what shall I do?"
"Then you are quite sure it was not stolen?" Bobby suggested.
"No. I don't suppose it was. It just hopped out somehow. But where? That is the question, Bobby. I can't answer it."
She rose finally and finished her preparations for bed. Bobby was very sympathetic; but there did not seem to be anything she could say that would really relieve Betty's heart, or help in any way. The locket was gone and no trace of how it had gone had been left in Betty's mind.
When the light was out Bobby crept into Betty's bed and held her tightly in her arms.
"Don't cry, Betty dear!" the other girl whispered. "Maybe your Uncle Dick will know how to find the locket."
"Oh, Bobby! I can't tell him. I'm ashamed to," sighed Betty. "It looks as though I had not cared enough about his present to be careful with it. And I thought if I carried it about with me that there would be no chance of my losing it. And now——"
"Then tell Bob," suggested her chum, hugging Betty tightly.
"Bob?"
"Tell him all about it," said Bobby Littell. ​"Perhaps he will know what to do. You can't really have lost that beautiful locket forever, Betty!"
"Oh, I don't know! It's gone, anyway!" sobbed Betty.
"Don't give up. That isn't like you, Betty," went on Bobby. "Maybe Bob can help. We can ask him, at least."
"Yes, we can do that," was Betty's not very hopeful reply.