“Most respectfully yours,
“Scorch O’Brien.”
Jennie’s big brother John, who had already taken some interest in Nancy’s mystery, took the girls to town with him. His employer, who knew Mr. Gordon, had never been able to get the lawyer to talk about Nancy Nelson, although he had started the subject with him several times.
The girls did a little shopping for themselves, and some errands for Mrs. Bruce, and then had a nice luncheon. It was past noon then and they were sure that Scorch would be at home—for it was evidently his home address that he had given to them.
They asked a policeman how to find Payne Street and he kindly put them on a car which took the two girls to the corner of that thoroughfare. It was a street of small cottages, and empty lots, and goats, and many, many dirty-faced children. Some of these last ran after Nancy and Jennie and made faces at them as they sought out Number 307.
“But as long as the goats don’t run after us and make faces, I don’t care,” declared Jennie.
Just then one nanny looked over a fence and said “Ba-a-a-a!” in a very loud tone, and Jennie almost jumped into the middle of the street.
“Come out! Come on!” she cried, urging her friend onward. “Goats are always butting in.”
A derisive chorus of “ba’s” followed them as they hurried along the street.
“There’s 307!” cried Nancy, pointing.