WIDOW ADAMS WAS sitting up again, for it was way past midnight, and Virginia was out. Many months ago Virginia was also out, and was brought back, unconscious. So now Nina was again sitting up, for Virginia was not a night-owl sort of a girl. Finally, around two o’clock, Nina couldn’t stand it, and had to call in a passing patrolman. Now this patrolman was an original Organization of Youth boy, and had always known Nina and Virgina; and said:—

“Oh, now! I wouldn’t worry so. Possibly a bus had a blowout; or—”

“But Virginia said nothing about going on a bus! Oh!! How could that child vanish so?”

Naturally, all that that patrolman could do was to call his station; and Nina, almost all in, lay down, until, just about dawn a jangling ringing brought this half wild woman to a front hall, shouting:—

“This is Nina Adams talking! Who? What? Virginia, is that you? What’s wrong? What! You and Harold Thompson? Our aviator? You did what? Took his aircraft to what city? ‘Why, that’s so far you can’t —” but Virginia had hung up.

So Nina also hung up, and sat down with a big, long sigh:-

“My Virginia, not running away, but flying away, to marry! Oh, this Youth of today!”

* * *

Around six o’clock that night, Virginia and Harold stood arm in arm in Nina’s parlor, as a big bus was groaning noisily away.

“But, Mama,” said Virginia, sobbing pitifully, “I didn’t think you would—”

“That’s just it, Virginia, you didn’t think!! But you should! How could I know what was going on? That’s just you young folks of today. You think of nothing but your own silly, foolish doings, and you allow us old good-for-nothings to go crazy with worry!!” and Nina sank in a gasping swoon onto a sofa.

But old Doc Wilkins, arriving at Virginia’s frantic call, knowing Nina’s iron constitution from childhood, soon had that limp form back to normal; and, with a dark, disapproving scowl at Virginia. said:—

“Bring in a good batch of hot food, and your Ma will turn out all right,” and going out, with a snort of disgust, and banging viciously that big front door!



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Books with no spinal columns.