My bright little friend was in sore trouble.

Her apron was over her face, and she was crying bitterly.

Ambrose had not taken his leave as tenderly as usual.

She was more firmly persuaded than ever that "Ambrose was hiding something from her." We all waited anxiously for the next day.

The next day made the mystery deeper than ever.
The horse which had taken Ambrose to Narrabee was ridden back to the farm by a groom from the hotel.