Chuck was waiting at the corner of the street when school closed that afternoon, but it was not for Muriel that he watched. He wanted to talk to Phyllis. He was desperately unhappy and he had to talk to some one. Boys, even his best friends, were not sympathetic enough. Muriel would be sure to blub; Chuck had seen her that morning. Daphne would drawl and that would drive him crazy, so it was for Phyllis that he waited, sure of her ready sympathy, for she had loved Don.
Phyllis came down the steps with Janet and Sally and Daphne, but as soon as she saw him she left the girls and hurried towards him.
"Oh, Chuck, Muriel has told us about Don, and I want you to know how terribly we all feel," she said sincerely. "Have you had any news?"
"Only a letter for my uncle, telling him to go to some old house way up in Bronxville and to bring a lot of money with him," Chuck replied. "The police tell him not to go, but I think he will; you see the letter says if he doesn't come that they will hurt Don."
"Oh, how dreadful, how detestable!" Phyllis exclaimed. "How could any one be so wicked, and to Don above all people!" Chuck looked at her quickly. He expected to see tears in her eyes, but instead he saw anger—flashing burning anger.
"When does the letter tell him to be at the house?" she asked abruptly.
"A week from to-day."
"Why not sooner, I wonder."
"Because they figure that the longer Uncle Don has to wait the readier he'll be to give them what they want. As if he cares how much money it is as long as he can get Don back again!" Chuck looked down the street and tried to keep his eyes clear from the tears that had threatened to flood them all morning. He too was seeing little Don's chubby face.
"My mother is with Uncle Don now," he went on after a minute's pause, "but there isn't much she can do or say. She's almost as heartbroken as he is. It—it's pretty tough on the little chap," he ended with a queer choke.