“The cups,” called Dorothy. “They are taking them away!”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mr. Armstrong told her. “Likely they will toss them out the car windows. They’re that sort that never breaks. But I’m glad they’re gone. You look quite done out.”
“And just think! I have been away from the hall for the past hour. They will think I’m drowned, or lost or——”
“Eloped,” finished the young man. “Well, I’m sure you did this to help someone, and if your success as a lunch counter manager is doubtful, no one could criticise your courage. Now, you had better shut this place up, before another avalanche swoops down, and, if you don’t mind, I’ll walk along with you. I can get the seven-ten easily, and have the pleasure of an early walk. To be honest, travelling on that train was not altogether pleasant.”
“I certainly must get back,” Dorothy replied. “But how am I to lock this place up? I do wish that girl would come back.”
She looked anxiously over the hills. There was a wheel coming. Yes, and that was the girl, with the blue suit.
“Oh, there she comes!” went on Dorothy. “Whatever will she think of this wreck and ruin?”
“From remarks I heard among the trainmen she may be glad they got coffee,” said Mr. Armstrong.
The bicycle had stopped now. The girl jumped off, and hurried to Dorothy.
“Oh,” she sighed, “I am so sorry I kept you so long, but father is so ill!” and they noticed that, in spite of the exertion of riding, she was very pale.