"Not yet, and the week's almost up," Phyllis replied sadly.
"Did you walk home with Chuck?"
"Yes, and he said he was very sorry you were sick and he sent you his love."
"Thanks, but what are they going to do?"
Phyllis gave a little shudder.
"Don't use that awful word 'they,'" she said. "It always means the kidnappers to me, and somehow or other every time I hear it I seem to see bandits with gold ear-rings and red handkerchiefs tied round their heads, and they are always doing something horrible to little Don."
"I know," Janet agreed sympathetically, "only I don't think of they as that kind of bandit. I wish I did. It wouldn't be half so hard to find them and have a real old fight, but these creatures that have stolen Don are men and they look just like everybody else."
"Except inside," Phyllis added.
"Of course, but their insides don't help. We can't see anything but their everyday outside looks," Janet reminded her.
Phyllis was thoughtful for a little, then she said slowly, "I'm sure I don't know why I should feel so terribly about it; worse than the rest of you, I mean, but somehow I do. Don was such a darling that day that I met him in the park, and I've sort of loved him ever since, and now to think that he's shut up somewhere and can't get out, and that perhaps he's being badly treated and starved. Oh, Jan, I just can't bear it, and if I feel like this just imagine his poor father!"