Then suddenly Betty spoke.
"Girls," she said soberly, "Mrs. Sanderson is almost well again and I
don't think we'll be able to keep her with us very much longer."
"What do you mean?" they cried together, their voices showing how very
real their concern was.
"Well," Betty explained slowly, "it seems she overheard some of us girls
talking about the rush of work in store for us and got it into her head
that we might need her room."
"But I don't see what difference that makes," protested Mollie. "As long
as we're doubling up and giving her our room."
"Well, of course, it appears that way to us," replied Betty, shaking her
head thoughtfully. "But I'm afraid we can't hope to make her see it so.
Anyway, Mrs. Watson said she spoke to her about it and said she would be
going as soon as she had a chance to say good-bye to the 'young ladies.'"
For a long time the girls stared straight before them, deeply troubled. It
was not so much the thought of losing the old lady, although, having grown
fond of her, they would miss her badly, as it was the realization that
here was one person in deep trouble, whose burden they could not seem in
any way to lighten.
"And we haven't been able to get hold of that motorcyclist," mourned
Mollie. "It makes me simply ferocious," she added, with sudden vigor, "to
think of his getting away with a thing like that and not even a day in
prison to show for it."
"And now with the boys gone," added Amy, "I don't suppose we'll have a
chance in the world of capturing him.
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