“Sure enough,” said Mrs. Higgins. She was silent then for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “Poor critters!” she sighed. “I only hope that they don’t ketch their death of cold.”
“Isn’t there any place they could stop?” asked Harold, carelessly. In reality, he knew that an affirmative answer would be the only hope for the success of his plan.
But Mrs. Higgins did not perceive any ulterior motive. She seemed only to be thinking of the girls’ safety.
“Yes,” she answered slowly. “There’s the widder Brown and her brother. But they’re that tight I can’t believe they’d ever take anybody in.”
“And how far away do they live?”
“About four mile—the gals’d be sure to stop by then, with their wet clothin’ and all. Oh, I do hope the widder loosens up a bit and takes ’em in!”
“Well, I guess there’s nothing more to do,” said Harold; “I might as well give up. But you did your part fine, Mrs. Higgins! And here’s another five for all your trouble!”
Harold turned over the keys to her and sauntered out to the barn to get his car. But once away from the farm, he drove like mad.
Crossing the nearest bridge, he took the road along the stream, keeping a sharp look-out for the “widder Brown’s” and watching his speedometer to know when he had gone four miles.
Soon he came to a tumble-down farm-house, quite different from the neat, up-to-date one he had just left. But he hardly noticed the place itself, for the most pleasing sight that could have greeted him met his eyes. Hanging on a clothes line in the back yard, exposed to the sun, were two scout uniforms!