“I don’t care—it was worth it!” she declared. “I’ve lived more to-night than I have in twenty years before. I loved every minute of it—the pictures an’ the fire an’ everything. But see here—” she leaned down and whispered in the girl’s ear,—“don’t you let any feller put his arm round you like the man did round that girl that set in front of us—don’t you do it!”
“I guess not!” retorted the girl sharply. “I ain’t that kind.”
“That’s right, that’s right! An’—an’ do come an’ see me again some time—do, dearie!” the old woman added over her shoulder as the conductor pulled her up the high step of the car.
Eva followed her. “I’m going to see she gets home all right,” she said, and Lena waved her hand as the car passed on.
“An’ to think her sharp old eyes saw that!” Lena thought with a chuckle as she turned away. “An’ me all the time thinkin’ she didn’t see anything but the pictures. Well, you never can tell. But she’s a duck, an’ it’s her gets my nickels—angel or no angel. And to think how she kidnapped us—the old dear,” and Lena went on laughing to herself.
At the next Camp Fire meeting, Lena, with a mischievous spark in her eyes, called out to Frances Chapin, “Say, Frances, Eva and I took one of your old ladies to the picture show the other night.”
Frances looked distinctly disapproving. “I think you might have made a better use of your money,” she returned.
“I don’t, then!” retorted Lena, and thereupon she told the story of Nancy’s Sunday kidnapping, and of what had happened at the picture show. Her graphic wording held the girls breathless with interest.
“Well!” commented Louise Johnson, “I’d like to see that old lady of yours, Lena.”
“She’s worth seeing.” This from Eva.