"Were they?" asked Mrs. Beasley, placidly. "My girls are always looking for jobs. When they get 'em, if they are good jobs, they go to live where the accommodations are better. I do the best I can for 'em; but I only accommodate poor girls."
"And I think you really must do a great deal of good, in your way, Mrs. Beasley," Nan declared. "Did these two we speak of chance to stay with you until now?"
"I was thinkin'," said Mrs. Beasley. "I know, now, the ones you mean. Yes, Inez did bring 'em. But they only stayed one night. They wus used to real milk, and real butter, and strictly fresh eggs, and feather beds. They was real nice about it; but I showed 'em how I couldn't give 'em live-geese feather beds an' only charge 'em a dollar apiece a week for their lodgin's.
"They had money—or 'peared to have. And they heard the movin' picture studios were all on the other side of town. So they went away."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Bess.
"Well, they were all right at that time. I'll write and tell Mrs.
Morton," Nan said.
"Did they tell you their names, Mrs. Beasley?" she asked.
"Bless you! if they did, I don't remember. I have twenty-five girls all the time and lots of 'em only stay a few nights. I couldn't begin to keep track of 'em, or remember their names."
This was all the information the chums could get from Mrs. Beasley regarding the girls whom Nan and Bess believed to be the runaways. A little later they went out with Inez, the latter evidently filled to repletion.
"Hi! but that was a feed! You girls must be millionaires' daughters, like the newspapers tell about," said the street girl.