“Just to let you admire Dogtown, I suppose?” said Jessie, laughing.
“Well, it’s a sight! I wonder what became of that freckle-faced young one.”
“I wonder if she found her cousin,” added Jessie.
“That was a funny game; for that child to go 62 hunting through the neighborhood after a girl. What was her name—Bertha?”
“Yes. And I have been thinking since then, Amy, that we should have asked little Henrietta some more questions.”
“Little Henrietta,” murmured Amy. “How funny! She never could fill specifications for such a name.”
“Never mind that,” Jessie flung back over her shoulder, and still breathing easily as she set a slower stroke. “What I have been thinking about is that other girl.”
“The lost girl, Bertha?”
“No, no. Or, perhaps, yes, yes!” laughed Jessie. “But I mean that girl the two women forced to go with them in the motor-car. You surely remember, Amy.”
“Oh! The kidnaped girl. My! Yes, I should say I did remember her. But what has that to do with little Henrietta? And they call her ‘Hen,’” she added, chuckling.