"Yes, yes, to be sure, dear me, good-by, young lady—I—" She was indeed flustered, and Phyllis could hardly repress a smile, for Miss Pringle's hat was well over one ear, and the dotted veil that should have covered her face was whipping itself into ribbons off the back of her head.
"But you haven't told me what you are doing down here?" Phyllis insisted.
Miss Pringle looked really troubled.
"I can't, indeed I can't, young lady," she almost cried. "I must go—I must indeed." She hurried on, keeping to the inside of the street and gazing about her furtively.
"Now, what under the sun is old Pringle up to?" Phyllis mused. "I never saw her so flustered. Well, come on, old man, let's take a little walk before we go in. They'll never miss us, and you needn't tell Galahad."
Boru looked up and cocked one ear rakishly, as though he thoroughly enjoyed the joke.
"Here, sir." Ten minutes later Phyllis gave the command, and Boru stopped running so suddenly that he almost tripped on his nose.
Phyllis slipped her hand under his collar and pulled him behind the high stoop that they were just passing. She had seen Miss Pringle coming towards them almost a block away, and she had no desire for another conversation with her. She watched her approach, wondering where she was going, and hoping that she would enter some house before she reached their hidingplace.
Miss Pringle was still walking close to the houses and seemed to be in a terrible hurry. Her hat bobbed more than ever, and the short coat she wore bulged out in the wind, making her indeed a comical figure.
When she reached a house that was boarded up, she paused and looked quickly behind her. It looked as though she were alone on the street. Phyllis watched her, interested in spite of herself, and saw her bob down and disappear into an area way.