Her face turned as white as the linen she wore.  Instinctively Tavia ran for the water at the corner of the room.  Miss Bell snatched up a paper and started to fan her.

“There, dear, don’t faint,” said the new nurse.  “Of course, you must go to her.”

“But!  I must go after the escaped girl!” gasped Miss Bennet, and she again almost swooned.  “Oh, my darling mother!  All I have in the whole, wide world!”

“You go to her.  Take my coat and hat, and I will take your case.  Agent, what time does a train leave for Mountainview?” She had the telegram in her hand.

“In just two minutes.  There’s the bell now.”

“Come Laura, get into this coat and take my hat.  You will reach home before anything serious happens, and perhaps, when your dear mother sees you——.  We must hope for the best.”

Laura Bennet slipped into her friend’s coat and took the little Panama hat that Miss Bell handed to her.  “Then you will go after the girl and return her to the sanitarium?  It will be your first case.  Can you manage it?”

“Certainly I will.  You run along for the train.  Have you a ticket?  Mountainview,” she called to Tavia.

Tavia stamped the ticket.  Sam was inside, but she had it ready before he had made his way to the window.

“And how shall I know the girl?” asked Miss Bell.

“Know her?  Oh, yes!  Why, you can’t mistake her.  She’s the prettiest little thing, with yellow hair and blue eyes—­there is not another like her.  Oh, how frightened I am!  It is so good of you, Mary!”

And she was on the train.

Miss Bell got into the wagon with the driver from the sanitarium.  Tavia was wishing that the drive had been in the other direction, for then she could have gone in the carriage perhaps, and have caught a train at the switch station.  That she was staying so long away from camp now began to worry her.  What would Dorothy think!

“Uncle Sam, couldn’t I get a train earlier by going over to the station I heard you telephone to?” she asked.  “I don’t mind a good walk.”

“Why, yes, that’s so,” replied Sam.  “Of course I’d like to keep you, Betsy.  You make a first-class assistant agent.  But I know how you feel, and I wouldn’t have you stay longer than you wanted to.  There’ll be a train here soon for the Junction, and if you are sure you can make the other—­you’ll have to flag it with your handkerchief—­then, if you get left, there will be no train either way.  I don’t know as you ought to risk it.”

“Oh, I can manage very well,” she assured him.  “I’ll take the train, and get the other from the Junction, all right.  I am so much obliged to you.  I would love to stay longer, if I could, but perhaps I may be able to come up again while I’m at camp.”  She tried to fix up a little, it was so miserable to have had one’s clothes on all night.

“Well, there’s the train,” and he pulled open the switch, which was operated by a lever in the ticket office.  “Good-bye, Betsy, and I won’t forget you.”