“Mark was awfully good to see Montmorency,” Jessie remarked. “But what will he think when we tell him about those children being up at the house the evening his plane fell?”
“We’ll not tell him,” declared Amy, with conviction. “Why should we? It certainly isn’t Monty Shannon who got Mark’s watch; otherwise he would not have to sell his rabbits to pay for a radio set.”
“But what has become of the watch?” groaned out Jessie.
There was a thunderstorm that evening which interfered with some of the radio concerts. But Jessie and Amy heard again Mr. Blair’s voice out of the air announcing the hospital fund concert on Thursday. What effect on the drive for funds for the Women’s and Children’s Hospital the dance at Carter’s Grove on Wednesday would have, they could only surmise.
After the thunder rolled away and the lightning ceased to flash there was still a drizzle of rain falling. When Amy started home Jessie held her back until she could find an umbrella in the hall closet.
“Pooh! I’m neither sugar nor salt,” cried the flyaway girl.
“But your frock is even more delicate,” laughed Jessie. “Hold this over you. It has by no means stopped raining.”
“You’re right. And it doesn’t look as though it would stop for a week. Oh, Jess!”
“Well?” asked her chum.
“The Witch’s Curse!” Amy exclaimed, giggling. “Maybe that funny little kid has put what she calls the ‘come-other’ on that Ringold crowd and their entertainment. I certainly do hope so.”