The girl seemed reassured, and Linda and Dot returned to their taxi, to find a hotel where they could spend the night.
“Did you ever hear of anything so queer in all your life?” demanded Dot. “Or anything more pitiful?”
“We’ll have to do something, Dot,” said Linda, thinking seriously. “We’ll buy all the papers to-morrow and look for the names and descriptions of missing persons. We’ve just got to find that kid’s parents.”
“If she has any.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way she was dressed. As if nobody in the world cared a bit for her.”
“That’s sure. But she must live somewhere. She couldn’t exist in the woods, on berries, or on that lonely stretch of country where we found her.”
“Well, let’s try to forget her for the time being,” urged Dot. “Here’s the hotel, and I certainly am hungry.”
“So am I. But I wish we could dress for dinner. Dot, we always ought to carry some extra clothing on these trips, because we never know when we’re going to need it.”
“Oh, what’s the dif, Linda? These suits are becoming, so what do we care?”