“It’s a pretty big bill,” remarked the young woman with suspicion. “I think I’d better call the manager. Mr. Hobbs—Oh, Mr. Hobbs! Step here a moment please.”
Mr. Hobbs “stepped here.” The young woman explained.
“Mrs. Slater of this city?” he asked.
“No,” returned Henrietta; “of Lakeville, Michigan.”
“How do I know she’ll pay this?”
“Oh, she will,” exclaimed both girls at once. “She always does.”
“Well, you look as if she did,” said the man, who had taken in all the details of Henrietta’s well made costume. “If you’ll give me her address and write a little note to go with the bill, I’ll let you go this time. This—this isn’t a regular performance, is it?”
“Oh, no,” assured Henrietta. “We just happened to get separated from our friends and they had all the money; but I knew it would be all right.”
“I hope it is,” said the manager, a little later, as he addressed an envelope to Mrs. Slater. “Those children certainly ate a square meal.”
In the meantime, perplexed Mr. Black gathered what remained of his flock as close to him as possible, looked anxiously up and down the street and wondered what to do.