The girl, whose pocketbook had been lost, remained by the railing, quite forgotten. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Excuse me,” said Penny, addressing her, “is there anything I can do to help?”
Disconsolately, the girl shook her head. She made a most unattractive picture, for her blouse was wrinkled and her skirt was spotted with an ugly coffee stain. Beneath a brown, misshapen roll-brim hat hung a tangle of brown hair.
“Someone stole my pocketbook,” she said listlessly. “I had twelve dollars in it, too.”
“You’re sure you didn’t leave it anywhere?” Louise inquired.
“No, I had it in my hand only a minute ago. I think someone lifted it in the crowd.”
“A pickpocket, no doubt,” Penny agreed. “I’ve been told they frequent these river boats.”
“Nearly everyone has left the steamer now, so I suppose it would do no good to notify the captain,” commented Louise.
She and Penny started to turn away, then paused as they noticed that the girl remained in the same dejected posture.
“You have friends meeting you at the boat?” Penny inquired kindly.