The final outcome of their combined efforts stated the matter with sufficient clearness:
Lost money and tickets. All safe and sound. Please telegraph twenty dollars to me, care station agent, Roseville. Will explain in letter.
Bobby.
This suited them all, though Fred suggested that they might save by cutting out the “please.” He was voted down however, and the telegram was handed through the office window and put on the wire at once.
This being attended to, there was nothing to do but to wait. Then a new worry assailed them.
“How long do you think it will be before we can get an answer?” asked Mouser.
“Not very long,” replied Bobby confidently.
“The message must be in Clinton this very minute,” chimed in Pee Wee.
“Yes, but that’s the least part of it,” remarked Fred. “It will have to be carried up to your house from the station and I’ve heard my father say that Claxton isn’t as quick about those things as he ought to be. Sometimes he gets Bailey to deliver for him, and you know what an old slow-poke he is.”
“And even when it gets to the house your father may be downtown and your mother may be out sleigh riding or visiting or something,” observed Mouser gloomily.