“We certainly should,” Peggy said. “All I want to do is find out who her parents are, and tell her we know. Then we’ll give her the choice of calling them, or having us do it. This is not just a question of sticking my nose into someone else’s business; it’s a question of doing what’s right.”
“You still haven’t told me how you expect to find out who her parents are,” Amy said.
“Maybe if I look around, I’ll find something with an address on it. Maybe a letter or something—”
“But—” Amy objected.
“I know,” Peggy interrupted, “but it has to be done. Why don’t you get the table set up as best you can, and I’ll look around a little.” She glanced at her watch. “We haven’t too much time, you know. They ought to be here in about an hour.”
“What about the crepe-paper roses?” Amy asked. “I don’t know how to make them!”
“I’m in no mood to make roses,” Peggy answered sadly and a little grimly. “Use the crepe paper for a tablecloth. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
As she started looking through Paula’s bureau, Peggy reflected that it was strange how a person could do something completely against her nature and as unpleasant as searching a friend’s room, when a matter of conscience and principle was involved. It was not always easy to do the right thing.
Conquering her qualms with the assurance that she was acting in the best interests of both Paula and her parents, Peggy went carefully about her search.
It took her nearly twenty minutes to go through the bureau and closet in a thorough manner. She carefully took down each dress and coat, looked at the labels and went through the pockets. She examined the many shoes and boots, as well as the sports equipment neatly stored on the shelves and the luggage on the floor in back. She put each thing back exactly as she had found it. When she closed the door behind her, she knew that she had found something, but not as yet what she had been looking for.