It took but a moment to get the young man on the wire.
“Hello, Bob! Josie O’Gorman! Want to help me?”
“Sure!”
“There may be a story in it, but more likely not. Anyhow, you will be of great assistance. Ursula Ellett’s kid brother is missing. I am on my way there now. She’s just phoned me. If I don’t find him under the bed or behind the door I will let you know.” Josie always used the telephone as though someone were counting words on her.
“Let me know much! I’ve got my Lizzie racer here and will come pick you up. Snow’s mighty high for runts. Be at your door by the time you get bundled up. So long!” And he’d hung up.
Josie laughed. Bob Dulaney always treated her like a boy, and she enjoyed it. It was rather nice not to have to plough through the drifts. She put on a thick ulster and heavy gloves, started to lock the door of the shop but paused a moment in thought.
“I’d better take my grip,” she mused. “I may have to catch a train.”
Josie kept a suitcase packed for an emergency—“As clever crooks and detectives always do,” she had said.
A muffled toot announced Bob and his tiny racer.
“What! Going on a trip?” he asked, as Josie came running down the steps with the suitcase.