"She certainly is not in bed," again declared Cora. "You may see
for yourselves."
"Laurel gone!" exclaimed more than one of the astonished girls.
"She may have gone out," suggested Hazel. "I thought I heard someone
about very early."
Following this thought the girls looked around called, and again
returned to the empty room.
"What is this?" asked Bess, seeing a piece of ribbon-tied paper
floating from the night lamp.
Hazel was first to handle it. She saw that it was a note addressed
to Cora.
"It's for you, Cora," she said as she snapped the fragile ribbon
from its fastening.
Cora read aloud:
"Forgive me for going this way but I could not wait longer to know
about my father. I will return before dark and bring with me the
canoe I have borrowed. You may, trust me and need not be anxious.
Gratefully,
LAUREL STARR."
"Gone in the canoe!"
"I know why, girls," Cora admitted, "and if you will all come in
here together I will tell you as much, as I myself know. The real
story I have not yet been able to learn, but must do so very soon."
Then she told of the first discovery of the man on Fern Island,
following with the account of her second and third visits there, and
finally of how she found poor Laurel in such distress the night of
her own exile. The loss of her boat they all knew about, and that
part was a certain kind of clear mystery.
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