Yes, after escorting them back to the main gate.

“Sure. Thank you.” You play along wanting to diffuse the situation in the safest way possible, though you feel something isn't quite right. Adding, “I'll walk back with you,” causes the two girls to shoot concerned looks between each other. The redhead is much more dead pan. That it takes her a second to respond with “that would be grand,” however, confirms your suspicions.

Walking with the redhead next to you, and the two girls in front, you ask, “is this what nuns are wearing now?” Your question is more probing than a pick up line.

“You think I'm a nun?” The question amuses the redhead.

“No.” You answer honestly. “I don't remember any teacher dressing or looking like you in high school, and I went public.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all. I just thought a Catholic reformatory school would have a more conservative dress code.”

“I'm the gym teacher.” She answers. “And I'm performing at the faire today.”

“Really?” You try to conceal your growing concern that her story isn't holding much water. “What show are you in?”

“Solo.” She answers. “My stage name is Red Kerry: Acrobat, magician and songstress, extraordinary. I perform in front of the Inn of the Welcoming Wench at 10, 1, 4 and 7.”

You keep the conversation light and ongoing until the main gate comes into sight.

“There is one thing I don't understand.” You decide now to push her story. “Your a performer and a chaperon?”

“I drove the girls here, Sister Rodriguez, will be watching them.” The redhead answers.

“I thought you said, 'these ladies are my charges.'” Flipping open your phone you call her bluff, “I think it would be prudent to call Sister Rodriguez. She must be very worried. Don't you agree?”

The redhead stops dead in her tracks and faces you. She speaks to the girls in some language that sounds like Spanish but is different. All sass disappears from the teenagers as they listen intently and then quickly head for the gate.

“Are we having a problem here, Mr. . . .?” She takes off her sunglasses and slides them into the neckline of her shirt.

“Mark Danton of Westmooring Security Services.” You answer. “Not at the moment. We take are job very seriously at Westmooring, and it is important for the public to know that we have zero tolerance for any criminal or conspiratorial activity. Does that make sense, Miss . . .?”

“Let's leave it at Kerry.” The redhead puts her sunglasses back on and turning her back to you follows the teenagers.

After watching the three leave the faire you look down at your watch. You don't have much time now to get to the Westmooring Security tent.