She disappeared into the building, and the girls fell to discussing their misfortunes, and the possibility of regaining any of their lost property. They had reported the theft of the Rolls-Royce at Salt Lake City, but they hardly expected to hear of it again; the food and the uniforms they counted as gone forever.
The conversation dragged, for the girls were growing tired; they could think of nothing but their desire to find lodging for the night. They began to look impatiently for Mrs. Remington.
“I do wish she’d hurry!” yawned Florence. “I’m beginning to feel pretty sleepy!”
“If only we had our camping outfit!” mourned Alice. “We could go to bed right here!”
“Girls, Mrs. Remington is coming out now!” Marjorie informed them. “Look—and some children are with her!”
“These girls don’t know a thing about the Lincoln Highway,” said Mrs. Remington when she reached the car, “but they are so anxious to hear something about the Girl Scouts that I thought maybe we could go in and let them see our uniforms, and do a little signalling—”
“But we’re dirty, and tired,” grumbled Florence. “We can give them the Headquarters’ address—”
“Do a good turn daily!” murmured Alice, under her breath.
“We’ll be delighted!” announced Marjorie, immediately. “At least, if you girls can assure us of finding some place to stay for the night.”
“Oh, somebody will surely take you in!” their leader told them. “There is a boarding house about half a mile up the road.”