“Might be another old captain, it might. Won’t grandpa be sorry–if I tell him. Maybe I shan’t, though I must hurry up an’ find him, ’cause seein’ that makes me feel dreadful lonesome, ’seems if. Oh! I do wish nobody ever need get hurted or terrible poor, or anything not nice! And–oh, oh, there’s that very lady I run away from, what come to the Lane! Drivin’ down in her very carriage and if—She mustn’t see me! She must not–’less she’s got him in there with her a’ready! What if!”
Miss Bonnicastle’s laudau was, indeed, being carefully driven through the jam of wagons which had stopped to give the ambulance room and she was anxiously watching the inch-by-inch progress of her own conveyance. Yet with an expression of far keener anxiety, Goober Glory recklessly darted into the very tangle of wheels and animals, crying aloud:
“She’s goin’ straight down toward that ‘Harbor’ ferry! Like’s not she’s heard him singin’ somewhere an’ coaxed him to get in there with her. He might be th’ other side–where I can’t see–an’ I must find out–I must! For—What if!”
She reached the carriage steps, sprang upon them, by one glance satisfying herself that the lady was alone, turned to retreat, but felt herself falling.
CHAPTER V
A Desolate Awakening
“You little dunce! Don’t you know better than do that?”
An indignant shake accompanied these words, with which the big policeman set Glory down upon the sidewalk after having rescued her from imminent death.