However, the wild ride came to an end without accident, and the girls tumbled out of the machine and on to the station platform. They looked about them, but the only person in sight was an unpromising looking person with a bald head—though he could not have been over thirty-five—beaked nose, and small red-rimmed eyes.
This decidedly unattractive individual lounged against the door of the waiting room and eyed the girls with insolent admiration.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asked, as he saw that they hesitated. "Always willing to oblige the ladies," he added.
The girls exchanged a glance, then Betty approached the lounger who had the grace to straighten up as she addressed him.
"We want to send a telegram," she explained coldly. "We understood we could send one from here."
"Sure! That's me," he responded with alacrity. "Right this way, ladies."
The girls followed him reluctantly into a little square booth-like place, and Mollie scribbled a telegram on the blank he gave her. Then they hurried out to the machine again. A little way down the road Amy turned and looked back. The fellow had resumed his lounging position and was looking after them with his little red-rimmed eyes.
"Ugh! wasn't he awful?" said Betty, as Mollie rounded a turn in the road on two wheels. "I'm glad we don't have to see him often, he'd give me the nightmare."
But Mollie did not answer. Her mind was once more on the twins, and she was repeating over and over the same old question.
"What has happened—what has happened? What could have happened?"