“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 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.
“I have been thinking that perhaps the girl Henrietta was looking for was the girl we saw being carried away by those women.”