“Oh, I hope I’ll be able to get along peaceably with a room mate, if I have one,” said Patricia earnestly. “Maybe I wouldn’t though. I guess I must be pretty well spoiled.”
“Don’t look so worried!” ordered Anne. “And, by the way, don’t take to heart everything the girls may say. Living all together, as we do, we are pretty frank at times, but everybody takes it in good part.”
When the bus stopped, it was still raining, and the two girls ran hastily across the muddy road to a small rustic shelter.
“Well!” said Anne, shaking her wet umbrella. “Evidently none of the girls have come down to meet the bus. Don’t blame ’em much on such a ‘nausty’ day. So we’ll have to climb the hill by ourselves and take our own bags.”
“Bags!” exclaimed Patricia, clutching Anne’s arm, as she opened her green umbrella preparatory to starting up the hill.
“Yes, bags; what about them?”
“I—I haven’t mine! I must have left it on the bus.”
“Good night!” ejaculated Anne forcefully.
“What shall I do?”
“You can’t do a thing but wait and see if the driver finds it, and brings it back on his next trip. Is your name on it?”