“Come and see me again, Henrietta!” Jessie called after her.
The freckled child nodded. But she did not look around. Darry said rather soberly:
“Too bad about the kid. We ought to do something for her.”
“To begin with, a good, soapy bath,” said his sister, vigorously, but not unkindly.
“She’s the limit,” chuckled Burd. “Hen is some bird, I’ll say!”
“I wonder––” began Jessie, but Amy broke in with:
“To think of her hunting up and down the boulevard for her cousin. And she didn’t even tell us what Bertha looked like or how old she is, or anything. My!”
“I wonder if we ought not to have asked her for more particulars,” murmured Jessie. “It is 48 strange we should hear of another girl that had run away––”
But the others paid no attention at the moment to what Jessie was saying. It was plain that Amy did not at all comprehend what her chum considered. The lively one had forgotten altogether about the unknown girl she and Jessie had seen borne away in the big French car.