on that bench beside the old man?" demanded
Molly.

"No, they were not. They were not anywhere--any single where. He wasn't
either."

"Pooh! He must be. He probably wanted to change his seat and was afraid
to leave them lying on the bench, lest somebody might be tempted to pick
them up. Somebody to whom they didn't belong, I mean."

"Molly, what shall we do? What will Miss Greatorex say?"

"Humph. She'll probably scream out her disgust as if we were deaf too
like herself. That's the way she always does: when there's something to
be said you don't want anybody else to hear she just talks her loudest;
and when there's something you're longing to know she merely whispers.
That's the way all deaf people do, Miss Penelope says. And--you're the
one that lost them, so you'll be the one to tell her, Dorothy girl."

"Why, child, I don't see how I lost them any more than you did! I'm
sorry as I can be. Sorrier about yours than mine even, though I'd
planned so many nice things to do with the money. Five dollars! Think of
it! I never before had five whole dollars at a time, never in my life!"
said Dolly, mournfully.

"Well, what's the use staying down here and just worrying about the
thing? Let's go and look again for the man. When we find the man we
shall find the purses; but--whether he'll give them back to us is
another matter."

"Molly, what a dreadful thing to say! As if you thought he--he stole
them, a nice old gentleman like that!"

"Pooh! Once my Aunt Lucretia had her little handbag snatched out of her
hand, right on Broadway street in New York city. She did so; and all she
could remember about the snatcher was that he was a handsome young man
with an eyeglass in one eye. A regular dandy he was, if the thief was
the fellow who brushed against her so rudely. Anyhow, after he'd
brushed, her bag was gone and all her shopping money in it. Papa told
her it served her right. That to carry a purse, or a bag, that way was a
temptation to any rogue who happened to pass by. He said the snatcher
was smarter than Auntie and he hoped it would teach her a lesson. Aunt
Lu thought Papa was almost as horrid as the thief; and what will either
of them say to us for being so careless?"

"I suppose we'll have to tell them!" reflected Dorothy, in sad
perplexity.

"Course we will. Aren't they both to meet us at the steamer? Aren't they
going with us all the way to Halifax? Why, I should want to tell the
very first thing. How else wo