“Of course.”
“The paper said, several days later, you know, that he had left town. People had looked him up. The parents of the children who were saved with the teacher wanted to make up a purse for him.”
“And this card,” said Dorothy, reflectively, taking the postal card from her pocket, “says that the union knows nothing about him. He disappeared after that fire—and he was a regular hero!”
“Sure he was,” agreed Tavia. “Maybe he was such a modest one that he ran away.”
But Dorothy was not listening to her jokes. She murmured, thoughtfully:
“I wonder if Miss Olaine knows what became of Tom Moran?”
CHAPTER XVI
DOROTHY’S WITS AT WORK
“The Night of the White Giant,” whispered Ned Ebony, shrilly, as she put her head in at the door of the chums’ room at Glenwood.
“Boo! how you scared me!” exclaimed Tavia, preparing to throw her Latin grammar—it was a book she would willingly have spared altogether—at Ned’s devoted head.