“Josie! Josie! This is Ursula! Can you hear me?” The voice was faint from agitation.
“Yes! What’s up?”
“Gone where?” Josie asked. She was ashamed of herself the instant she had asked what she considered a very foolish question. If Ursula had known where, she would naturally have gone and found her little brother without delay.
“I don’t know,” continued the frantic sister. “The boys went to bed early and I sat up putting the finishing touches on some little presents I was making. They were fast asleep. I looked in on them for a moment before I ran across the street to take some things to the Conants and Irene. I did not latch the door to the apartment as I did not expect to be gone a minute. That was about nine o’clock. I am sure I was not out of the house five minutes in all. Mr. and Mrs. Conant begged me to come in but I merely left my Christmas parcels and after chatting with them a moment in the hall ran back home. I did not even go in to see Irene, but sent her a message. When I got home I did not go to bed but very foolishly sat up and sewed awhile and then read. I wanted to be sure the boys were fast asleep before I filled their stockings which they had hung up for Santa’s visit. I only went in their room a few minutes ago. Ben was fast asleep and Philip was—gone. His clothes are gone, too—overcoat, hat and mittens, but they took him off wrapped in a blanket.”
“Have you looked everywhere?”
“Everywhere!”
“I’ll be right over,” said Josie, hoping she kept from her voice a certain impatience and weariness she could not help but feel. Remembering the scare about little Philip before and the frantic search of some six or eight persons and how easy it had been to find him, she was sure that the little boy was safely tucked away under the bed or behind the bureau or somewhere.
“You can’t lose that kid,” she declared, as she drew on her goloshes preparing for the snow, which was deep and drifting. “If Ursula would only buck up! I was a fool not to get my beauty sleep when I had a chance. I think I’ll get Bob Dulaney in on this. He did me a good turn in the Markle case.”
Bob Dulaney was a young newspaper reporter who was rapidly making a name for himself. It was he who had grappled with Felix Markle and had overcome that doughty if evil knight with the terrible scissors-hold known to wrestlers. But that is another tale. At any rate he was a fast friend to the Higgledy Piggledies, ever ready to do their bidding. He was all devotion to Irene, his great strength always at the service of the lame girl.