"Now," exclaimed Peace, all a-flutter the minute the broad back had disappeared, "let's see where Swift & Smart live. There it is just across the street, but we'll have to hurry, 'cause there is no telling how soon she will be back. Here, wrap this lap robe around you to keep your clothes out of sight, and give me your hand. Mercy! I should think the p'lice would have certain streets for the nautomobiles and cars to go on instead of letting 'em all jumble up that way. We didn't get hit that time; don't wait for the next one to come, but run."
Dragging poor, frightened, stumbling Allee and the trailing robe through the turmoil of the street, Peace managed to land on the opposite walk without mishap, but how she ever did it was a marvel to the big, brawny policeman shouting warnings to them as he tried in vain to reach the little figures dodging so recklessly under horses' noses, in front of flying automobiles and across the path of clanging bicycles.
"Are we all here?" gasped the blue-eyed tot when Peace had set her on her feet once more and adjusted the dragging robe about her shoulders.
"Course! What did you think we left behind? I know how to get across crowded streets. Here is the door. I wonder which is Smart and which is Swift,—there are three men in the room."
She lifted the latch and boldly entered, then halted and took a careful survey of her surroundings.
There were several desks in the office, all dreadfully littered with papers and books, and at one of these sat a short, bald-headed man, talking rapidly to a pretty, smiley-faced young girl, who scribbled queer little scratches in a tablet. Beside another desk in the opposite corner of the room were two men, both tall and gray and pleasant appearing, but so much absorbed in their conversation that they did not notice the children's entrance. Through a nearby door came the fitful clicking of some machine, and Peace could see a second girl seated at a table pounding a typewriter, while another man hurried to and fro from a row of shelves to a big iron box against the wall. None of them, however, paid any attention to their anxious little visitors, and Peace, after waiting impatiently until she feared Mrs. Grinnell would be back looking for them, stepped across the polished floor to the gray men in the corner, shook the nearest one by the sleeve, and demanded, "Are you Swift or Smart, or; both—I mean neither?"
"Now, Mr. Campbell," the man was just saying, but at this interruption he broke off abruptly, glared at the small intruder and asked in quick, sharp tones, "What do you want?"
"Some money," stammered Peace, much startled by his nervous, half-irritated manner.
"Money! Well, I am afraid you have come to the wrong place," he said decisively, mistaking the children for beggars.
"Why, I thought—" began Peace, with quivering lips.