They expected the child to enter the elevated station as she had done before, but this she did not do. Walking at a rapid pace, she led them directly toward the very heart of the city. After covering five blocks, she began to slow down.

"Getting tired," was Florence's comment. "More people here. We could catch up with her and not be suspected."

This they did. Much to their surprise, they found the child dressed in the cheap blue calico of a working woman's daughter.

"What's that for?" whispered Lucile.

"Disguise," Florence whispered. "She's going into some office building. See, she is carrying a pressed paper lunch box. She'll get in anywhere with that; just tell them she's bringing a hot midnight lunch to her mother."

"It's strange," she mused, "when you think of it, how many people work while we sleep. Every morning hundreds of thousands of people swarm to their work or their shopping in the heart of the city and they find all the carpets swept, desks and tables dusted, floors and stairs scrubbed, and I'll bet that not one in a hundred of them ever pauses to wonder how it all comes about. Not one in a thousand gives a passing thought to the poor women who toil on hands and knees with rag and brush during the dark hours of night that everything may be spick and span in the morning. I tell you, Lucile, we ought to be thankful that we're young and that opportunities lie before us. I tell you--"

She was stopped by a grip on her arm.

"Wha--where has she gone?" stammered Lucille.

"She vanished!"

"And she was not twenty feet before us a second ago."

The two girls stood staring at each other in astonishment The child had disappeared.

"Well," said Lucile ruefully, "I guess that about ends this night's adventure."

"I guess so," admitted Florence.

The lights of an all-night drug store burned brightly across the street.

"That calls for hot chocolate," said Florence. "It's what I get for moralizing. If I hadn't been going on at such a rate we would have kept sight of her."

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