"And how did you get home? I'd like to know that," said Horace, walking on with great strides, and then coming back again to the "ladies;" for his anxiety about his little sister would not allow him to behave calmly.
"I rode."
"You weren't in the car we came in."
"N-o; I just happened to be peeking in there you know. But I came in an omnibius."
"It is wonderful," said Aunt Madge, looking puzzled, "that you ever knew what omnibus to take."
Dotty looked down to see if her boot was buttoned, and forgot to look up again. "Well, I shouldn't have known one omnibius, as you call it, from another," said Prudy, lost in admiration. "Why, Dotty, how bright you are! And there we were, so afraid about you, and spoke to a policeman to look you up."
"I wouldn't let a p'liceman catch me," said Dotty, tossing her head. "But haven't you found Fly yet?"
They were at home by this time, and Horace was ringing the bell.
"No, the dear child is still missing; but the police are on her track," said Aunt Madge, looking at her watch. "It is now one o'clock. Keep a good heart, Horace, my boy. John shall go straight to the telegraph office, and wait there for a despatch. Don't you leave us, dear; we can't spare you, and you can do no good."
Horace made no reply, except to tap the heels of his boots together. He looked utterly crushed. A large city was just as strange to him as it was to Dotty, and he could only obey his aunt's orders, and try to hope for the best. Dotty seemed to be the only one who felt like saying a word, and she talked incessantly.