"Hold on!" cried Chub, hurrying to the curb. "Are you sure she wasn't on the train?"
"Course I am."
"Didn't she send any—any message or anything?"
"No, not that I know of."
"When is the next train?"
"'Bout 'leven o'clock, I guess. Get ap."
"Well, now what are we going to do?" demanded Chub, as the white horse ambled away again. Harry shook her head.
"I'd like to tell Jennie what I think of her," said Chub aggrievedly. "Nice way for her to act. We can't sit here until eleven o'clock and wait for her. We'll just have to shut up shop.”
"But how will she get into the house?" asked Harry.
"I don't know." Chub frowned thoughtfully at the crumbling bricks.
"I suppose we might leave the key across the street and pin a note on the door telling her to go there and get it. I guess that's all we can do, eh?"
Harry agreed that it was. So they saw to the fastenings of the window, took their iron kettle
