“Well, what’s to be done first?” inquired Mary Louise, impatiently. “While we’re talking and fussing here, that car is getting farther and farther away from us.”
“True,” assented the girl detective, calmly, “but I need a good breakfast to fit me for a hard day’s work—and I’m getting it.”
“You’re stuffing yourself like a cormorant!” said Mary Louise. “Why, I’ve seen you go for twenty-four hours without eating, Josie O’Gorman.”
“Under other circumstances. My! how good this ham and these eggs taste after a foodless night. But I’m thinking while I chatter, Mary Louise, and if you don’t like my methods of detection, discharge me on the spot, Miss Burrows,” she said with mock dignity.
“Oh, hurry up, Josie. What’s first on your program?”
“First, we must visit an old friend, Charlie Olmstead—and—”
“Oh, we’ve been through all that yesterday—and the evening before,” Mary Louise retorted. “What do you imagine we’ve been doing all this time?”
“Can’t imagine,” said Josie, meekly; “but anyone who would let a youth and a bran’ new auto get away from them so easily would do ’most anything. I suppose you’ve interviewed the postmaster, also?” She asked in a tone that was meant to be casual.
“One of our first acts, of course.” Josie smiled over Mary Louise’s head, but the old Colonel caught the expression and answered, to assist his dearly beloved grand-daughter:
“We may have acted foolishly, Josie, but you may be sure we acted. The interview has, you must admit, rendered it unnecessary for you to do the same thing and so has saved you the loss of considerable time.”