But Dulcie was still doubtful.
“I’m sure Grandma would be very angry,” she protested, “and Aunt Julia, too. Besides, we don’t know for sure that she ever was stolen. She says she wasn’t.”
“I guess I made a mistake,” put in Rosy, eagerly. “I disremembered first, but now I come to think about it, I’m pretty sure I was stole. Anyhow, I want the nice clothes. I’ll show you the way to our tiniment. ’Tain’t far.”
“Where is it?” inquired Dulcie, still far from convinced of the wisdom of the proceeding.
“Over on Avenue A.”
“Avenue A,” repeated Dulcie, with a shiver. “Oh, we’ve never been there in our lives. We can’t go with her, Paul, we really can’t.”
“All right, you needn’t. I’m going, anyhow, and so’s Molly. We like to see new places, don’t we, Molly?”
“I won’t go anywhere without Dulcie,” said Molly, loyally. “I think we ought to go, though, Dulcie. She says she really was stolen, and it must be our duty to help her find her own mother, even if Grandma and Aunt Julia are angry. I’m sure Papa would want us to do our duty.”
Dulcie wavered, and Rosy, quick to seize her advantage, began to cry.
“I want to find me family, I want to find me family, I do, I do!” she wailed, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. “I want to have pretty clothes, and ice-cream, like in the ’orspittle.”