"What is it? Tell us. Can we help?" asked Mrs. Gallant while John had a momentary apprehension that Mrs. Sprockett's condition might be the result of a discovery that her daughter had visited the corner motion picture theater surreptitiously.
"She's gone," Mrs. Sprockett gasped.
"Gone?" Mrs. Gallant exclaimed.
"Gone," Mrs. Sprockett repeated, and then, with a sob of despair, she added, "Kidnaped!"
"You mean she has disappeared?" asked John, feeling that her fear that Alma had been abducted might be far-fetched.
"She has been gone since morning," continued Mrs. Sprockett, a little calmed by the sound of a masculine voice. "Ever since morning. Someone has stolen her. Oh, my little girl; someone has stolen her. What shall I do? What shall I do?"
"Try to calm yourself," urged Mrs. Gallant. "She will probably return before long."
"She left no note? Gave no warning?" John asked. "She may have run away of her own accord, you know," he added.
Mrs. Sprockett stopped her sobbing and sat upright in her chair. Indignation blazed in her eyes.
"How dare you, sir? How dare you?" she demanded, furiously. "How dare you stand there and tell me that my Alma left me of her own free will? My Alma leave her mother who loves her so? My Alma run away like some common scamp? I didn't come here to be insulted like that, sir!"