The three girls crept down the last flight of steps and out into the foggy morning. But not until they had reached the nearest pharmacy did Billie and Nancy tell the tale of their adventures to their friend.
“But why did you choose Miss Felicia Rivers of all names?” she demanded, when they had finished.
“Because it sounded like the name of a woman. Cousin Helen had written to for lodgings.”
“Good heavens,” exclaimed Marie-Jeanne, “what poor memories you have! It wasn’t Felicia Rivers. It was Letitia Lake.”
Letitia Lake! What tricks one’s memories play! While the sleepy all-night drug clerk filled the prescription, they looked up Miss Letitia Lake in the directory. There it was, staring them in the face, and instantly that name and address were so indelibly graven on their memories that neither Billie nor Nancy will forget it to her dying day.
“How are we to get there, now we do know the address?” demanded Nancy. “We don’t know the way.”
“We must go in a cab,” said Billie firmly.
“Do you think two beggar girls could hire a cab?”
“No, this is what you must do,” put in Marie-Jeanne, who had gained wisdom by experience and suffering. “One of you can wear this long cape of mine and the other can have mother’s. It’s exactly like this one. I will lend you what money I have,”—she paused and flushed hotly,—“if you don’t mind my calling very soon to get it back, and the capes, too. Mother always has a spell when we get into these places where we live on almost nothing, but the spells never last long, and she may ask for her cape and the money, too.”
“You are the kindest friend in the world, Marie-Jeanne,” exclaimed Billie warmly, “and I hope we can do something for you some day to show you how much we appreciate it.”