"Well, anyway, it—it wasn't English," she said doubtfully; "and they couldn't answer my questions. But maybe you can. Do you know where Mrs. Carew lives?"
"Nix! You can search me."
"Wha-at?" queried Pollyanna, still more doubtfully.
The boy grinned again.
"I say not in mine. I guess I ain't acquainted with the lady."
"But isn't there anybody anywhere that is?" implored Pollyanna. "You see, I just went out for a walk and I got lost. I've been ever and ever so far, but I can't find the house at all; and it's supper—I mean dinner time and getting dark. I want to get back. I MUST get back."
"Gee! Well, I should worry!" sympathized the boy.
"Yes, and I'm afraid Mrs. Carew'll worry, too," sighed Pollyanna.
"Gorry! if you ain't the limit," chuckled the youth, unexpectedly.
"But, say, listen! Don't ye know the name of the street ye want?"
"No—only that it's some kind of an avenue," desponded Pollyanna.