?"
_Dorothy's Travels._]

But he wasn't. When he did come, after Mrs. Hungerford and Molly had
had ample time to grow anxious themselves, it was with a woe-begone Miss
Greatorex upon his arm and a very disturbed expression on his own face.

"Why, Papa, where's Dolly? Why didn't she come, too?" cried Molly,
darting to meet him.

"That, my dear, is exactly what this lady and I would like to know. I
was in hopes she might have seen you standing here and crossed to join
you. Well, she's been in too great haste, likely, and started by herself
to go--I wonder where! Anyway, the best thing to be done is for you
three to get into this carriage and drive to the Astor House and order
dinner for all of us. It's an old-time hotel where my father and I used
to go when I was a boy myself, and I patronized it for old association's
sake. You, small daughter, had fixed your mind on nothing less than the
Waldorf-Astoria, I expect! Never mind; you'll get as good food in one
place as the other."

"But, Papa, aren't you coming with us?"

"Not just yet. I'll stop behind a bit and set a few policemen or small
boys in search for Miss Dorothy. Tell me something by which we can
recognize her when found. New York is pretty full of little girls, you
know, and I might miss her among so many."

The Judge tried to make his tone a careless one but there was real
anxiety in it as his sister promptly understood; but she also felt it
best to treat the matter lightly, for already poor Miss Isobel was on
the point of collapse. So she answered readily enough:

"Very well, brother, so we'll do. I reckon I know your tastes so that I
can cater for you and--is there any limit to what we may order? I'm a
bit hungry myself and always do crave the most expensive dishes on the
menu. Good-by, for a little while."

The Judge bade the driver: "To the Astor House;" lifted his hat to those
within the carriage, and it moved away.

Then he summoned a policeman and asked that scouts be sent out all
through that neighborhood, to search for a "thirteen-year-old girl, in a
brown linen dress, dark curly hair, brown eyes, and--'Oh! just too
stylish for words!'" which was the description his daughter had given
him. Indeed, he felt that this very "stylishness" might be a clue to the
right person; since denizens of that locality, girls or women, are not
apt to have that characteristic about them.

He was a weary man. He had been up late the night before, and previous