“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.

CHAPTER VII

ALL MRS. STAPLES COULD SAY

The two girls sought out Bob Henderson before breakfast and told him of the disappearance of Betty’s beautiful little locket.  Betty’s eyes, were a little swollen and even Bobby seemed not to have passed a very agreeable night.  Bob was quite shrewd enough to see these evidences of trouble and he refrained from making any remark even in fun to ruffle the girls.

“Here’s a pretty mess!” exclaimed Bob, but cheerfully.  “And we all going to Mountain Camp to-morrow if Mrs. Canary telegraphs ‘Yes,’ Hunted everywhere, I suppose?”

“Yes, Bob,” Betty assured him.  “And there was but one place to hunt.  In my bag.”

“Sure?”

“Pos-i-tive!”

“Carried it loose in your bag, did you?” he asked reflectively.

“Wrapped up in white tissue paper.  You know, the box it came in got broken.”

“I remember.  Gee, Betty! that’s an awfully pretty locket.  You don’t want to lose it.”

“But I have lost it!”

“For keeps, I mean,” rejoined Bob, smiling encouragingly.  “Come on!  Let’s see the bag.  Where did you carry it?  When was the last time you saw the locket in the bag and where?”