She was evidently ashamed of her poverty. Nan saw that it irked Jennie Albert to have strangers see her need and she hastened, as usual, to relieve the girl of that embarrassment.
"My dear," she said, running to her as Jennie sat on the couch, and putting an arm about the poor, thin, shaking shoulders. "My dear! we would not disturb you only that you may be able to help us find two lost girls. And you are so sick. Do let us stay a while and help you, now that we have come, in return for the information you can give us about Sallie Morton and Celia Snubbins."
"Gracious! who are they?" returned Jennie Albert. "I never heard of them,
I'm sure," and she seemed to speak quite naturally for a moment.
"Oh, my dear!" murmured Nan. "Haven't you seen them at all? Why, they told me at the studio—"
"I know! I know!" exclaimed Bess, suddenly. "Jennie doesn't know their right names. Nan means Lola Montague and Marie Fortesque."
Jennie Albert stared wonderingly at them. "Why—those girls? I remember them, of course," she said. "I supposed those names were assumed, but I had no idea they really owned such ugly ones."
"And where, for goodness' sake, are they?" cried the impatient Bess.
"Miss Montague and her friend?"
"Yes," Nan explained. "We are very anxious to find them, and have been looking for them ever since we came to Chicago. You see, they have run away from home, Jennie, and their parents are terribly worried about them."
"Maybe they were ill-treated at home," Jennie Albert said, gloomily.