“Oh, goodness! you don’t really suppose she’s run away?”

“Do come here, Ruth, and hear what Mrs. Tellingham says!”

Ruth went to the telephone and heard the principal of Briarwood Hall talking.  What Mrs. Tellingham said was certainly startling.

It seemed that Amy Gregg had received a letter that afternoon.  It was from her father, and, of course, was not opened by the principal.  But afterward—­after the child had disappeared from the premises, of course—­the letter came into Mrs. Tellingham’s hands.  It was found by Tony Foyle down by the marble statue in the sunken garden.  Evidently Amy had run there, where she would be out of the way, to read it.

It was a very stern letter and accused Amy of some past offense before she had left home.  It likewise said that Mr. Gregg had received an anonymous letter from some girl at Briarwood, telling about the fire, and about Amy’s supposed part in starting the blaze, and complaining that Amy would not ask for a contribution to the dormitory fund.

Mr. Gregg was extremely angry, and he told his daughter that he would come to Briarwood in a few days and investigate the whole matter.  Why Amy Gregg should run away was now clear.  She was afraid to meet her father.

“Make sure that the poor child is nowhere about Mrs. Smith’s, Ruth,” Mrs. Tellingham begged her over the wire.  “I am sure I should not know what to say to Mr. Gregg if he comes and finds that his daughter has disappeared.  The poor child!  I shall not sleep to-night, Ruth Fielding.  Amy must be found.”

Ruth felt just that way herself.  No matter what her friends said in contradiction, Ruth felt that she was partly to blame.  She should have kept a close watch over Amy Gregg.

“I let that picture-making get in between us,” she wailed.  “I’m glad it’s all done and out of the way.  I’d rather not have written the scenario at all, than have anything happen to Amy.”

“You’re a goose, Ruthie,” declared her chum.  “You’re not to blame.  Her father’s harshness with her has made the child run away. If she has.”

“Her own unhappy disposition has caused all the trouble,” said Ann, bitterly.

“Oh! don’t speak so,” begged Ruth.  “Suppose something has happened to her.”

“Nothing ever happens to kids like her,” said Ann, bruskly.

But that was not so.  Something already had happened to Amy Gregg.  She was lost!

CHAPTER XXI

HUNTING FOR AMY

In spite of her seemingly heartless words, it was Ann Hicks who agreed to go with Ruth to hunt for the lost girl.  Helen frankly acknowledged that she was afraid to tramp about the woods and fields at night, with only a boy and a lantern for company.

“Come along, Ruthie.  I have helped find stray cattle on the range more times than you could shake a stick at,” declared good-natured Ann Hicks.  “Rouse out that lazy boy of Grandma Smith’s.”