"That's an idea!" cried Marjorie. "I'll ask papa——"
But she was too anxious to read the third and last letter to finish her sentence. Hastily she pulled it from the envelope.
"Dear Ma,
"I'm in New York now and you can rite me care Gen. Del. My money is most gone. I got a waitres job.
"Frieda."
"But she hasn't, any more!" protested Marjorie; "at least, if Miss Smith is right!"
At that moment Mrs. Hammer returned with the baby, and Marjorie asked her all sorts of questions to which she could not reply, but only shake her head hopelessly.
"But aren't you the least bit worried?" asked Marjorie, picturing how her own mother would feel under similar circumstances. For Mrs. Hammer was certainly amazingly calm.
"Ach! she's old enough to take care of herself!" cried the woman impatiently. "New York's a fine place—I'm glad she is there!"