“But from a public institution of some kind!”
“Is that different from a boarding school?” demanded Beth, with some warmth. “Only the girls, I suppose, are all poor and don’t have very much fun.”
“Cracky-me!” exclaimed Molly again. “Maybe she’s from some place where they send really bad girls. Perhaps she’s escaped from a reform school.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Beth. “She’s nicely spoken and is very ladylike. And has such wonderful eyes!”
“I noticed those eyes last evening,” said Molly, reflectively. “And she is older than we are.”
“Not much.”
“Maybe she has been with people who are not nice. To think of the risk you took, Beth Baldwin! And she admitted the authorities were after her.”
“Yes.”
“Suppose a policeman had come right here to this room and demanded her—and taken you to jail, too?”
But Molly’s eyes twinkled, and Beth laughed again. “You can’t scare me, Molly Granger. I don’t believe there is a mite of harm in Cynthia Fogg.”