Mr. Ricketts seemed satisfied to know that the boy was upstairs and in good hands. He did not—at that time—ask to see him; and Ruth wanted, if she could, to keep news of the deputy’s arrival from the knowledge of the patient.
“Oh, dear me, Ruth!” groaned Helen. “It never rains but it pours.”
“That seems very true of the weather in this part of the world,” agreed her chum. “I never saw it rain harder than it has during the past few days.”
“Goodness! I don’t mean real rain,” said Helen. “I mean troubles never come singly.”
“What’s troubling you particularly now?” asked Ruth.
“I’ve lost my last handkerchief,” said Helen, tragically. “Isn’t it just awful to be here another night without a single change of anything? I feel just as mussy as I can feel. And this pretty dress will never be fit to wear again.”
“We’re better off than some of the girls,” laughed Ruth. “One of those that room with us danced right through her stockings, heel and toe, the evening of the hop; and now every time she steps there is a great gap at each heel above her low pumps. With that costume she wears she can put on nothing but black stockings, and I saw her just now trying to ink her heels so that when anybody follows her upstairs, they will not be so likely to notice the holes in her stockings.”
“Well! if that were all that bothered us!” groaned Helen. “What are we going to do about Curly?”
“What can we do about him?” asked Ruth.
“You don’t want to see him arrested and carried to jail, do you?”