Bobby Hargrew met Laura and Jess on the edge of the crowd, for she had been unable to worm herself into the middle of it again, and told them swiftly of the boys' departure to hunt for the car that had done the damage.

"And that's just like the boys!" exclaimed Jess Morse, with some exasperation. "To run away and desert us!"

"I don't know but I'm glad," said Laura. "I don't feel much like shopping after seeing that poor man hurt."

"Or skating, either," complained Jess.

Presently the three overtook the strange girl. Bobby, whom Chet had said was "just as friendly with strangers as a pup with a waggy tail," immediately got into conversation with her.

"Say! was he hurt badly?" she asked.

"I think his right leg was broken," the Red Cross girl replied. "And his head was badly hurt. Your friends, here, could see that."

"He bled dreadfully," sighed Laura. "But you had the bandage on so nicely that the doctor did not even disturb it, my dear."

"Thank you," said the Red Cross girl. She hesitated on the corner of the side street. "I fear I must leave you here. I am going home."

"Oh," cried Jess, who was enormously curious, "we can go your way just as well as not, Miss Steele! We live at the other end of Whiffle Street--up on the hill, you know."

"All but me," put in Bobby. "But I can run right through Laura's yard to my house."

She indicated Laura as she spoke. The Red Cross girl looked at Mother Wit with some expectancy. Jess came to the rescue.

"Let's get acquainted," she said. "Why not? We'll never meet again under more thrilling circumstances," and she laughed. "This is Miss Laura Belding, Miss Steele. On your other hand is Miss Hargrew--Miss Clara Hargrew. I am Josephine Morse. I used to live across the street from the old Eaton place where you live now."

"You are a stranger in town, are you not?" Laura asked, taking the new girl's hand.

"Yes, Miss Belding. We have only been here four weeks. But I have worked in the Red Cross before--and one must do something, you know."

"Do something!" burst forth Bobby. "If you went to Central High and had Gee Gee for one of your teachers, you'd have plenty to do."

"We are all three Central High girls," said Laura gently. "Have you finished school, Miss Steele?"

"I have not been able to attend school regularly for two years," admitted the new girl. "I am afraid," and she smiled apologetically, "that you are all much further advanced in your education than I am. You see, my mother is an invalid and I must give her a great deal of my time. It does not interfere, however, with my doing a little for the Red Cross."

"I am sorry your mother is ill," said Laura.

"We were advised to come up here for her sake," said Janet Steele hastily. "We have been living in a coast town. The doctors thought an inland climate--a drier climate--would be beneficial."

"I hope it will prove so," said Laura.

"It seems a shame you can't get out with the other girls," Jess added.

"And come to school and let Gee Gee get after you," joined in Bobby grimly.

"Is she such a very strict disciplinarian?" asked Miss Steele, smiling down at the irrepressible one as they walked through the side street toward Whiffle.

"She's the limit," declared Bobby.

"Oh," said Laura mildly, "I think Miss Carrington is nowhere near so strict as she used to be. Margit Salgo really has made her quite human, you know."

"Say!" grumbled Bobby, "she can hand out demerits just as easy as ever. And she had her sense of humor extracted years ago."

"Has that fault cropped up lately, my dear?" asked Laura, laughing. "It must be so. What happened, Bobby?"

The younger girl, who was a sophomore, whereas Laura and Jess were juniors, came directly under Miss Carrington's attention in several classes. Bobby was forever getting into trouble with the strict teacher.

"Why, look, now," said Bobby, warmly, "just what happened yesterday! English class. You know, that's nuts for Gee Gee. I was bothered enough, I can tell you, trying to correct a paper she had handed back to me, and she kept right on talking and asking questions, and the recitation period was almost ended. I didn't want to hang around there to correct that paper--"

"You know very well you should have taken it home to correct," Laura put in.

"Oh, don't tell me that! I take so much extra work home as it is, that Father Tom Hargrew asks me if I don't do anything at all in school. And, anyway, I didn't think Gee Gee saw me. But, of course, she did."

"And then what?" Jess asked.

"Why, she shot a question at me, and I didn't get it at first. 'Miss Hargrew! Pay attention!' she went on. Of course, that brought me up standing. 'What is a pseudonym?' she wanted to know. How silly! You know the trouble we've been having with that car Father Tom bought. 'I don't know what it is, Miss Carrington,' I told her. 'But if it is something that belongs to an automobile, father will have to buy a new one pretty soon, I'm sure.'"

"And she docked you for that!" exclaimed Jess, as though wildly amazed. "How cruel!"

"Really, I am afraid we are sometimes cruel to our dear teachers," laughed Laura. "But if they are too serious they are such a temptation to us witty ones."

"Now, don't be sarcastic, Mother Wit," said Jess, shaking her chum a little by the elbow. "You know very well you enjoy nagging the teachers a bit yourself, now and then. And Professor Dimp!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" gasped Bobby suddenly. "Did you hear the latest about Old Dimple?"

"Now, girls," said Laura, quite sternly, "I refuse to hear of Professor Dimp being made a goose of."

"Gander, dear! Gander!" exclaimed Jess, sotto voce.

"He's an old dear," declared Laura, quite as earnestly. "We found that out, I am sure, when we went camping on Acorn Island last summer."

"True! True!" admitted her chum.

"Oh, nobody wants to hurt the old fellow," chuckled Bobby. "But one day this week there was a bunch of the boys down at the post-office, and Professor Dimp came in to mail a letter. You know he is always reading on the street when he walks; never sees anybody, and goes stumbling about blindly with a book under his nose. He got into the revolving door and Short and Long declares Old Dimple went around ten times before he knew enough to come out--and then he was on the street again and had failed to mail the letter."

"Oh, Bobby!" cried Jess, while Miss Steele was quite convulsed by the statement.

"He's so absent-minded," said Laura sympathetically. "Why didn't Short and Long tell him he was in the revolving door?"

"Humph!" chuckled Bobby, "I guess Short thought the old fellow needed the exercise."

Just then the girls came to the corner of Whiffle Street The street was narrow and crooked in an elbow here. The houses were mostly small, and were out of repair. It was, indeed, the poor end of Whiffle Street. On the hill end were some of the best residences in Centerport.

"There's the Eaton place across the street," said Jess briskly. "I see there is a light, Miss Steele."

"That is mother's room on the first floor--right off the piazza. You know, we could not begin to use all the house," the girl added frankly. "There are only mother and I and Aunt Jinny."

"Oh! Your aunt?" asked Jess.

"She is mother's old nurse. She has come with us--to help do the housework, you know," Miss Steele said frankly, yet again flushing a little. "I--I guess I have never lived just as you girls do. We have moved around a great deal. I have got such education as I have by fits and starts, you see. I suppose you three girls have a perfectly delightful time at your Central High?"

"Especially when Gee Gee gets after us with a sharp stick," grumbled Bobby.

"Don't mind Bobby," said Laura, laughing. "She is dreadfully slangy, and sometimes quite impossible. We do have fine times at Central High. Especially in our games and athletic work."

"Miss Steele must be sure and come to our Ice Carnival next week," said Jess.

"'Ice Carnival'?" cried the Red Cross girl. "And I just love to skate!"

There came a sudden tapping on the window of the lighted room in the old Eaton house. The girls had crossed the street and were standing at the gate. Janet Steele wheeled quickly and waved her hand. A sitting figure was dimly outlined at the long, French window.

"Oh!" Janet said. "Mother wants us to come in. She doesn't see many people--and she enjoys young folk. Won't you come in? It will be a pleasure for us both."

Jess and Bobby looked at Laura. They allowed Mother Wit to decide the question, and she was but a few seconds in doing so.

"Why, of course! It's not late," she said. "We shall stay but a minute this time, Miss Steele."

"Call me Janet," whispered the Red Cross girl, squeezing Laura's arm as they went through the sagging gate.

The quartette climbed the steep steps to the piazza. That the Eaton house was in bad repair was proved by the broken boards in steps and piazza floor and the dilapidated condition of the railing. Even the lock of the front door was broken. Janet turned the knob and ushered them into the dimly-lit hall.

This was neatly if sparsely furnished. And everything seemed scrupulously clean. Their young hostess opened the door into her mother's room, which was that originally intended for the parlor.

The eager and curious girls of Central High saw first of all the figure of the woman in the wheel chair by the window. She had pulled down the shade now and dropped the curtains into place. The whole room was warm and well lighted. There was a gas chandelier lighted to the full and an open grate heaped with red coals. There was a good rug, comfortable chairs, and a canopied bed set in a corner. A tea-table with furnishings was drawn up near the fireplace. If one was obliged to spend one's time in a single room, this apartment seemed amply furnished for such a condition.

Mrs. Steele herself was no wan and hopeless-looking invalid. She was as buxom as Janet, and Janet was as well built a girl, even, as Laura Belding. The invalid had shrunken none in body or limbs. She owned, too, a very attractive smile, and she held out both hands to greet her young visitors.

"I am delighted!" she said in a strong, quick voice, which matched her smile and bright glance perfectly. "Why, Janey, you may go out every evening, if you will only bring back with you such a bevy of fresh, sweet faces. Introduce me--do!"

The introductions were made amid considerable gaiety. Mother Wit took the lead in telling Mrs. Steele who they were. Later Janet related the accident on Market Street, which had led to her acquaintance with the three girls of Central High.

Laura's keen eyes were not alone fixed upon Mrs. Steele while they talked. She took into consideration everything in the house. There was no mark of poverty; yet the Steeles lived in a house in a poor neighborhood and one that was positively out of repair, and they occupied only a small part of it.

When the three girls came out again and Janet had gone in and closed the door, Laura was in a brown study.

"Wake up, Mother Wit!" commanded Jess. "What do you think of the Steeles--and all?"

All Laura Belding could say in comment, was:

"Odd!"

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