LOST
But it is high time we were returning to Chicago to look after the lost
Lakeville children.
“I think they might have waited for us,” panted Mabel, no longer able to
run. “They might have known we’d get lost.”
“It wasn’t their fault,” said Henrietta. “I should have asked them to
wait. But that’s just like me. I’m always doing things on the spur of
the moment and then wishing I hadn’t.”
“If we only knew where they were going to eat—”
“But we don’t. Mr. Black said that as long as our train was late getting
in and we had missed our connection with the Hiltonburg train that we’d
just check our baggage to the other station and walk about until time
for lunch. After that we’d go some place to look at something—I’ve
forgotten just what—and leave for Hiltonburg at three o’clock.”
“I wish I had my lunch right now,” wailed Mabel, dragging her hat into
place and stuffing loose locks under it. “I’m hungry and I’m thirsty and
my new shoes hurt my feet. It’s awfully noisy here and I don’t like
being lost. I don’t _like_ it—”
“Mabel,” warned Henrietta, “if you cry, I’ll run away and leave you here
and then you’ll be a lot more lost than you are now. I’m just as much
lost as you are, even if I _have_ been in Chicago before. We’ll go along
until we see a restaurant with ladies eating in it and _we’ll_ go in and
eat—”
“But we haven’t any money,” objected Mabel, dismally.
“If I remember rightly,” said Henrietta, after a moment’s deep thought,
“they don’t ask for your money until _after_ you’ve eaten. I think I
know of a way to fix it. Wait a minute until I tidy you up a little.
There are three dabs of soot on your face and your hair is all over the
place. Of course we want to look as if we _had_ money.”
“You always do,” said Mabel, “but I don’t.”
“Still,” consoled Henrietta, “you always look as if you’d had meals—as
many as four or five a day.”
“But,” questioned Mabel, “are you _sure_ it’s all right?”
“Of course. I told you I knew a way to fix it. Here’s a place right
here—not very big but the folks look all right. Stand up straight and
don’t look so scared. There, that’s better.”
They were inside. The waiter held up two fingers and escorted them to a
table. They sat down and Henrietta leisurely removed her gloves. Mabel’s
had been removed—and lost—for some hours.
“We might as well have a _good_ meal,” remarked Henrietta, studying the
_menu_. “Of course, if Mr. Black were paying for it I’d leave the choice
to him; but as long as he isn’t we’ll choose what we like. Let’s begin
with cream of celery soup. Then how would you like chicken _à la king_
and shrimp salad, creamed cauliflower, French fried potatoes—and ice
cream for dessert?”
“That’s all right for me,” agreed Mabel, visibly cheering up, “only I
like the looks of the green corn that man is eating over there; and the
waiter just went by with a big tray of fluffy things—”
“French pastry. We can have some of that, too.”
They enjoyed their meal. Being lost wasn’t half bad when the salad was
so delicious, the chicken so tender, the rolls so delightfully crisp,
the corn so sweet, the service so excellent. Besides her ice cream,
Mabel ate two varieties of French pastry and was sorry that Henrietta
didn’t urge her to try more when there were so many kinds. But Henrietta
was putting on her gloves.
Henrietta picked up the slip, carried it to the cashier’s desk and
remarked, calmly: “Charge it, please, to Mrs. Howard Slater.”
“But, my dear girl,” objected the cashier, “we don’t charge meals. This
is a cash place.”
“Oh, is it?” said Henrietta, flushing slightly. “I’m sorry for that. You
see, we _haven’t_ any cash. But if you will send the bill to my
grandmother, of course she will pay it.”
“It’s a pretty big bill,” remarked the young woman with suspicion. “I
think I’d better call the manager. Mr. Hobbs—Oh, Mr. Hobbs! Step here a
moment please.”
Mr. Hobbs “stepped here.” The young woman explained.
“Mrs. Slater of this city?” he asked.
“No,” returned Henrietta; “of Lakeville, Michigan.”
“How do I know she’ll pay this?”
“Oh, she will,” exclaimed both girls at once. “She always does.”
“Well, you look as if she did,” said the man, who had taken in all the
details of Henrietta’s well made costume. “If you’ll give me her address
and write a little note to go with the bill, I’ll let you go this time.
This—this isn’t a regular performance, is it?”
“Oh, no,” assured Henrietta. “We just happened to get separated from our
friends and they had all the money; but I knew it would be all right.”
“I hope it is,” said the manager, a little later, as he addressed an
envelope to Mrs. Slater. “Those children certainly ate a square meal.”
In the meantime, perplexed Mr. Black gathered what remained of his flock
as close to him as possible, looked anxiously up and down the street and
wondered what to do.
“If we stay right here,” said Jean, “they may catch up.”
“If we go back for a couple of blocks,” said Marjory, “we may find
them.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Bettie, “they passed us when we stopped to look at
those clocks.”
“It’s time we were having our lunch,” said Mr. Black. “Suppose we walk
back and forth the length of this block—we _must_ find those girls.”
“Couldn’t we ask that policeman if he had seen two girls, one fat and
one very dark?” asked Marjory.
They could and they did, but the policeman hadn’t. He looked indeed as
if he had never condescended to see anything below the level of his own
lofty chin.
“Now what,” asked worried Mr. Black, taking off his hat and mopping his
forehead, “would _you_ do, girls, if _you_ were lost?”
“I’d die,” said Marjory.
“I’d telegraph my father,” said Bettie.
“I’d remember that I was going to Hiltonburg on the three o’clock
train,” said Jean, “and I’d ask a policeman how to get to the station.”
“Good,” said Mr. Black. “Would either of those girls think of that?”
“Mabel wouldn’t,” replied Jean, “but Henrietta might. She has traveled a
lot you know. She’s been in London, New York, Paris, San Francisco,
Washington, Boston and even in Chicago—but not for very long. Still, she
knows a lot more about cities than _we_ do. She has stayed in
hotels—perhaps she’ll go to one.”
“But—had she any money? Had Mabel?”
“Mabel’s mother didn’t give her very much,” said Jean. “She always loses
it. What she had she packed in her suitcase.”
“And I have Henrietta’s,” mourned Mr. Black. “Poor girls! They are
frightened half to death and hungry too. They had an early breakfast,
poor things. I should have kept an eye on them every moment.”
“Just one eye wouldn’t have been enough for Henrietta,” remarked Bettie.
“She darts about like a humming bird. There’s one thing certain. They’re
not in this block.”
“We’ll walk back and forth for twenty minutes longer,” said Mr. Black.
“Then we’ll get something to eat. After that we’ll go to the station.”
Owing to very slow service, it was almost two o’clock before they
finished their meal. There was another delay when they tried to find a
taxicab. After that they were held up twice by congested traffic and the
anxious girls began to fear that they might be late for the three
o’clock train; but they were not.
Mr. Black was quite pale and haggard from anxiety when at last they
reached the station. He gave an audible sigh of relief when two girls
seated just inside the waiting room door, hopped up and grabbed his coat
tails to halt his rapid stride through the station.
“Oh, Mr. Black,” squealed Mabel. “We’re here. We walked all the way and
we asked a policeman on every corner to make sure we were getting to the
right place. I used to think I ought to run if I saw a policeman but I
guess they’re pretty useful if you’re good—only I wasn’t. It was all my
fault. I went into a store to buy candy.”
“It was mine, too,” said Henrietta. “I should have known better. I just
didn’t think—I never do. I’m awfully sorry.”
“Well, well,” returned Mr. Black, “I’m certainly glad you were capable
enough to get to the right station. Now take hold of hands, all of you,
and Bettie, you hold on to my coat like grim death. We must buy our
tickets, re-check our baggage and get aboard our train.”