Dorothy had finished her sandwich, but objected to Mrs. Armstrong leaving her lunch untouched.
“It doesn’t make a bit of difference, child,” said that lady. “David will likely come back with more things to eat than would provide a dinner.” She brushed the crumbs from her skirt. “I am for finding the lost sheep.”
It must be said that those who remained to finish the feast did not look a bit worried about Jean Faval; in fact there was something of a scramble directly Dorothy and Mrs. Armstrong were safely out of sight.
“Where do you suppose——” began Molly.
“Don’t suppose,” interrupted Edna. “I don’t like that girl, and I hope she got on a train that—backed up.”
“Hope she tried to walk the bridge,” put in Tavia, between a pickle and a lady finger.
“You’re mean,” spoke Nita Brant. “She’s got lots of money, and will be splendid at school. She even has a check book of her own.”
“We prefer cash,” said Molly, “it’s lots handier.”
“What would we have done if it had not been for what ‘Mabel’ put in the bag?” asked Cologne, who was in a seat back of the four girls, who were just now threatening to eat the crumbs from the cracks in the newspaper table-cloth. “This meal has been my salvation.”
“But where do you suppose David has gone?” inquired Tavia. “I am worried about him. I like David!”