“People’ll think we’re crazy—running—along like this,” puffed Peggy.
Florence nodded assent “They’re saying, ‘Ah, those—queer Americanas!’”
The two girls reached the exchange at last in time for Florence to help Jo Ann question one of the operators. The man they had described, the operator replied, had left only a few minutes before.
“Where did he go?” Jo Ann asked quickly.
The operator shook her head. “That I do not know.”
“Now where?” Peggy asked Jo Ann curiously.
“To the telegraph office. He’d probably have to telegraph, too, to some of the inspectors. Where’s the telegraph office, Florence?”
“Go back to the corner where we just turned. It’s a block past the market.”
“Oh, gosh!” Jo Ann exploded. “Just my luck to go to the wrong place first. Come on.”
Off she rushed out of the building and soon was several yards ahead of the other two. By the time she had reached the telegraph office, she was panting, her cheeks a brilliant scarlet with beads of perspiration running down them.