“But how can we find poor Urania,” sighed Dorothy.
“I’ve never known you to have to look for anything in vain, daughter,” said the Major, with his arm about Dorothy, and his wrinkled face pressed close to her flushed cheek.
This was Thursday evening. The girls were to leave for Glenwood the next day.
“I would like to stay over one day more,” pleaded Dorothy to Mrs. White, “I feel in that time we may hear some news from Urania.”
“Well, just one day, remember. I will not extend the time,” answered Mrs. White, smiling.
Miette was impatient to hear from her beloved Marie. She had sent a letter to Marie in care of the department store, and, by Mrs. White’s direction, had marked it “important.” At last came a letter in return, which caused the French girl much delight.
“It is from Marie, my Marie!” she cried, running up to Dorothy. “She is out of the hospital, and she and her folks have moved to Boston. Her folks are doing better—earning more money—and Marie is to go to school!”
“I am glad to hear that,” replied Dorothy.
“I shall write again—and tell her about my good fortune,” went on the French girl. “Some day I want her to visit me.”
“Yes, for I’d like to know her,” was Dorothy’s answer.