“Curly?” cried Helen, suddenly interested. “Never! What’s he done now?”
“I guess this isn’t any fun,” said Ruth, seriously. “His grandmother is greatly disturbed. The constable has been to the house looking for Curly and threatens to arrest him.”
“The poor boy!” exclaimed Helen. “I knew he was an awful cut-up——”
“But there never was an ounce of meanness in Henry Smith!” Ruth declared, quite excited. “I don’t believe it can be as bad as she thinks.”
“His grandmother has always been so strict with him,” said Helen. “You know how she treated him while we were lodging with her when the new West Dormitory at Briarwood was being built.”
“I remember very clearly,” agreed Ruth. “And, after all, Curly wasn’t such a bad fellow. Mrs. Smith says he threatens to run away. _That_ would be awful.”
“Goodness! I believe I’d run away myself,” said Helen, “if I had anybody who nagged me as Mrs. Sadoc Smith does Henry.”
“And she doesn’t mean to. Only she doesn’t like boys—nor understand them,” Ruth said, as she folded the letter with a sigh. “Poor Curly!”
“Come on! let’s get out on deck and see them start. I do just long to see the wonderful New York skyline that everybody talks about.”
“And the tall buildings that we couldn’t see from the taxicab window,” added Ruth.
“Who’s going to keep the key?” demanded Helen, as Ruth locked the stateroom door.
“_I_ am. You’re not to be trusted, young lady,” laughed Ruth. “Where’s your handbag?”
“With all that money in it? Smart girl! And the window blind is not locked. The rules say never to leave the room without locking the window or the blind.”
“I’ll fix _that_,” declared Helen, and reached in to slide the blind shut. They heard the catch snap and were satisfied.
As they went through the passage from the outer deck to the saloon they saw a figure stalking ahead of them which made Helen all but cry out.
“I see her,” Ruth whispered. “It’s the same girl.”
“And she’s going into that stateroom,” added Helen, as the person unlocked the door of an inside room.
“I’d like to see her face,” Ruth said, smiling. “I see she has curly hair, and I believe it’s short.”
“We’ll look her up after the steamboat gets off. Her room is number forty-eight,” Helen said. “Come on, dear! Feel the jar of the engines? They must be casting off the hawsers.”