“I’ll go mad waiting here, doing nothing,” wailed Ursula.
“Well, do something then,” suggested the practical Josie. “Put the dolls that have been dressed in their boxes and pile them up in the back of the shop. All on that table are done.”
“I didn’t quite finish the school girl I was dressing,” said Ursula, beginning mechanically to sort out the dressed dolls. “I mean the one little Philip liked so much. Why, I can’t find her! Where can she be? I left a needle sticking in her apron. She must be in this pile—No, she is gone! Strange!”
“Well, there is one thing that is not gone,” said Josie suddenly making a dive under the table where the young seamstresses had been so busy plying their needles, “and that’s Phil’s muffler and mittens. And here’s his cap! Bless me, if there isn’t his overcoat under that pile of scraps!”
Ursula caught the little red mittens and held them to her aching heart.
“Philip! Philip! My precious baby!” she moaned.
Josie straightened up and smiled down on Ursula.
“Did you girls look in every crack and cranny of the shop and tea room?”
“Every one,” declared Elizabeth, who was preparing to go out on the street and aid in the search for the lost child.
“Are you sure?”