“Indeed I will!” cried Patty. “Bless you for suggesting it. I seem to have lost my wits. Oh, Flo, what will Snippy say when father gets there without us?”
“She’ll be in an awful way,” said Flo. “And Nan will be ’most crazy. Oh, Patty, they’re really having a worse time of it than we are, now. Just think! They don’t know where we are, even!”
“Yes,” said Patty, thinking. “Father must know we came on to Milan.”
“No, he doesn’t; he may think we got off at some other station. You know the train stopped three or four times. Or he may think we got off at Bologna and staid there.”
“That’s so,” agreed Patty. “Well, he knows me well enough to know that I’ll do the best I can; and I do believe, Flo, that he feels it a worse responsibility to have lost you than me!”
“If he doesn’t, it won’t be Snip’s fault,” said Flo, grimly. “She’ll give him a waxing, I’ll warrant.”
“It wasn’t father’s fault,” said Patty, staunchly. “That hotel man ought to have told us to change cars at Bologna. Nice railroad management! Well, I’ll telegraph at once, for he can’t very well telegraph to us, when he doesn’t know where we are.” Mrs. Ponderby brought blanks, and Patty wrote a long telegram:
“We are nicely fixed at the Palace Hotel, with comfortable rooms, and a dear English duenna. Send Snippy for us as soon as possible, and we will gladly rejoin you.
“Patty and Flo.”
Mrs. Ponderby bustled away to send the telegram, and then returned to tuck her charges into bed.