Came the almost indistinguishable tumult of sound.
"Sheer luck," Jane insisted.
"Luck!" mocked Judith. "Even luck knows where to light. Jane, if we lost I should have drowned myself. I have bet away a whole week's stamps and fudge, and goodness knows what all. But we won, and I may open up shop again. Just look over there at Marian. Have her friends all deserted her?"
"Oh, call her in," suggested Jane. "It's a shame, here in a strange school."
"Not little Judy," replied the other. "I may take a chance on betting fudge against Breslins, but I would not be so rash as to take a chance on anything like that. Oh, there she goes with our reporter! What if she gives any news of the Barn Swifts?"
"Oh, she wouldn't!" but Jane's voice sounded apprehensive.
"Well, if she does, we will simply--that is, we certainly will," stuttered Judith, too overcome to talk coherently. She was waving her arms and indicating dire calamity on Marian's unfortunate head.
"Still, Judy, we should have kept track of that nice little reporter. It would be perfectly awful if Marian gave her any news about Helen's hidden talent."
"Oh, Jane, I am absolutely sure she will do just that. I never before saw her so abject to a mere business woman. By the way, dear, where is Helen?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? Mrs. Weatherbee asked me if we would not all agree to leave the child pretty much alone for a few days. She thought it would be so much better for her nerves, not to be talked to. I agreed with her, as I have found Helen absolutely impossible lately. She will not come out, and she just sits and hugs her letters."