Will O’ the Wisp by Patricia Wentworth

other name.”
    â€œMoore—Erica Moore.”
    â€œDid you ever try and find the aunt you spoke of?”
    David threw out his hand.
    â€œI hadn’t an idea how to set about it. She was Aunt Nellie, and her surname was Smith, I shouldn’t wonder if there were thousands of Nellie Smiths.”
    â€œI should advertise,” said Eleanor quickly.
    â€œFor Nellie Smith?”
    â€œNo—for Erica. I should put her name first—Erica Moore, and then say that anyone giving news of her would be rewarded,”
    David walked across the room and back.
    â€œYes,” he said, “yes. It couldn’t do any harm.”
    He sat down at the table, wrote for a moment and laid the sheet of paper on Eleanor’s knee. She read:
    â€œE RICA M OORE .—Anyone giving information with regard to Erica Moore will be rewarded.”
    A fidgeting, hesitating hand fumbled at the door. Betty came halfway across the threshold and spoke querulously:
    â€œI didn’t think you could possibly know the time. The dressing-bell went ages ago.”

CHAPTER XIII
    Dinner was rather a silent meal. Betty alone upheld the conversation. She had had a letter by the evening post from Dick. She read it aloud, and then, taking it as a text, discoursed upon it.
    David, who had heard it all before, produced no remarks. Eleanor, with a slight air of being somewhere else, said “Yes,” and “Did he?” and “How nice, Betty!” Folly, who felt no interest at all in Dicky Lester, watched Betty between her lashes and decided shrewdly that it was not only Dicky’s letter that had brought the colour to Betty’s cheeks and the edge to her voice. “Jealous cat!” she said to herself.
    After dinner David, with the air of a man who has had as much Dicky as he can swallow, introduced a new topic:
    â€œBy the way, I quite forgot to say Tommy Wingate’s home. I ran into him last night. I’ve asked him to come down.”
    Eleanor looked up smiling, and Betty said “Oh?” in a half-offended tone. “You might have told me at once. Is he coming?”
    â€œYes—to-morrow. He’s eating nuts with an aged uncle to-night, or I’d have brought him with me.”
    Folly, on her stool before the fire, looked from Eleanor to David.
    â€œWho is he? Is he nice? Is he young? May I play with him?”
    â€œAsk Eleanor,” said David. “He’s her property.”
    â€œOoh! How exciting! Eleanor, may I flirt with him a little bit, just to keep my hand in?”
    Eleanor laughed.
    â€œTommy will be delighted. He flirts nearly as well as you do.”
    â€œOoh!” said Folly. She looked out of the corners of her eyes at Betty, and then whisked round and tugged at David’s sleeve.
    â€œDavid, you’re not to read the paper. You’re to listen and give expert advice. Which of my frocks shall I wear to-morrow so as to strike Eleanor’s Tommy all of a heap?”
    David laughed in spite of himself.
    â€œIt’s no good—he’s irrevocably Eleanor’s.”
    Folly caught David’s hand and pinched it vigorously.
    â€œI don’t want him for keeps. You haven’t been listening. Eleanor’s lent him to me to flirt with. Haven’t you, Mrs. Grundy, darling?” She made an impudent face at Eleanor over her shoulder, then pinched David again, softly this time. “There! I’ve got Mrs. Grundy’s leave! Even Betty can’t say anything after that. Shall I wear this frock? Or does it make me look too good? I always think blue gives one a sort of maiden’s prayer look. I’ve got a red frock you haven’t seen—but perhaps that would shock him. George said it wasn’t respectable.”
    David had a quick vision of a little scarlet Folly with green eyes full of laughing, beckoning mischief. He pulled his hand away from the fingers that had begun to stroke the place they had pinched, and said