"You foolish, foolish things! You are starving for greasy baker's cakes, when your fathers and mothers at home are just sitting down to lovely sliced ham and brown bread and biscuit and homemade preserves and cake—and plenty of it all! Sallie Morton and Celia Snubbins, I think you are two of the most foolish girls I ever heard of!"
The crying girl stopped in surprise. The other tried to assume a very scornful air.
"Haven't you made a mistake, Miss?" she said. "My name is Lola Montague and my friend is Miss Marie Fortesque."
"Sure they are," said the excited Nan. "I know they are your names, for you chose them yourselves. But I was at your house, Sallie Morton, the day of the big blizzard—the very day after you and Celia ran away. And if you'd seen how your mother cried, and how badly your father felt—
"And your mother is worried to death about you, Celia Snubbins; and your father, Si, who is a dear old man, said he'd give everything he owned to get you back—"
"Oh, oh!" gasped Celia, and burst into tears again.
"Listen to this, Sallie Morton!" added Nan, rummaging in her shopping bag and bringing forth Mrs. Morton's letter. She read some of the letter aloud to the girls.
"Now, Sallie, how dare you stay away from a mother like that? You've both just got to come with me. I should think you'd have found out by this time that neither of you will ever be famous as motion picture actresses."
"We have!" gulped Celia, plucking up a little courage. "You know we have, Sallie. That Mr. Gray told us to go back and milk the cows—you know he did!"
Sallie, determined as she was, was softened by her mother's letter. She said: "Well—if they'll have us back, I s'pose we might as well go. But everybody will laugh at us, Celia."