In a few halting words Dr. Blackwell told him of the girls’ disappearance. “What shall I do, señor?” he ended, his voice vibrant with emotion.
Before the amazed Señor could take in the situation and answer this question, there was the sound of light, flying feet on the balcony floor.
The next moment, after one swift glance at her father, Florence dropped on her knees at his feet, exclaiming, “Daddy! Are you sick?”
Startled at the sound of her voice, Dr. Blackwell almost jumped out of his chair. “Florence!” he cried. “Florence!”
“What’s the matter, Daddy?” she asked anxiously.
In the moment of silence that followed her question she turned to Señor Rodriguez. “Tell me what’s happened, señor.”
“Where’d you come from?” Dr. Blackwell put in before the Señor could speak. “How’d you get here? Oh, child, I’ve been so frightened and worried! I thought something terrible had happened to you and the girls. Where are they?”
“Right here,” answered Jo Ann, who had just come running in with Peggy. “Don’t—blame Florence—it’s really—all my fault.”
“Why, Dad, there’s nothing the matter with us—we’re all right,” said Florence, rising. “We just went up on the roof and——”
“What are you girls talking about?” he demanded, noticing for the first time their disreputable appearance—their grimy faces, Jo’s bloodstained shirt, and their knickers. “What have you been doing?”