"Yes, and one broke a beautiful china cup," said Tillie.
"But he had his thumb gone," Adele hurried to say. "I saw him directly I went to pick up the pieces. So I suppose we could not exactly blame the man for dropping Tillie's real German cup."
"His thumb gone!" repeated Cora absently.
"Oh!" exclaimed Hazel. "The man we met after Paul's hold-up had lost a joint of his thumb."
"And papa said the papers stolen were patent papers!" exclaimed Bess, all excitement.
"Hush!" whispered Belle. "Bess, you know father particularly said we were not to speak of that."
If, as is claimed, the mature woman has the wonderful advantage of an instinct almost divine, then the growing girl has, undoubtedly, the advantage of intuitive shocks—flashes of wireless insight into threatening surroundings.
Such a flash was distinctly felt now through the Grotto—even the two young proprietors, who were not supposed to be really concerned, felt distinctly that "something was doing somewhere."
Cora sank down into a low wicker chair. Bess and Belle managed to both get upon a very small divan, while Daisy, Maud and Ray, the "three graces," stood over in the corner, where an open window let in just enough honeysuckle to sift the very softest possible sunshine about the group.
But Hazel lingered near the telephone. She had confided to Cora that
Paul was not at all well when he left home in the morning, and just now
she was wondering if it would seem silly for her to call up the
Whitehall Company and ask to speak with her brother.