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"And you say you think she's married?" "It may be so. To Willie Sangreen. At least, she was going with a man by that name when she worked for us." "Don't know any Sangreens over at Pickletown," said Gummy, shaking his head. "And of course I haven't seen your Olga." "That is so, Gummy. But if the girl at Johnson's that night was really Olga Cedarstrom, you'd know her again, wouldn't you?"
And she had not appeared at Pickletown after she had departed from eight hundred and forty-five Knight Street that morning. Mr. Day did not wish to put the police on the trail of the absent Olga. In the first place there was no real evidence that the Swedish girl had stolen the box of mementoes.
"Why, try the next applicant," said Broxton Day easily. "I will look in at the agencies again." "I'm afraid that won't do any good, Daddy," sighed Janice. "Delia came from the agency, and you see what she was like. And Olga " "No," interrupted Mr. Day, "Olga came direct from Pickletown." "Well, it doesn't matter.
But, you see, we are inquiring for Olga for a reason that is likely to frighten her and her friends. I think some of those people over in Pickletown might tell me more than they do about Olga and that Willie Sangreen." "It is just too bad!" half sobbed Janice. "I hoped we should find the treasure-box this time." "Have patience. Rome was not built in a day," said her father.
I don't know what you are talking about." "But you know Olga, Daddy." "To my sorrow," he groaned, "It can't be that you have found out anything about that Swedish girl? I have been searching Pickletown again this evening." "Oh, Daddy!" she cried, "maybe Olga is just where you can find her to-morrow. And she did break one of Mrs. Latham's very best dishes, and "
Oh, well," finished Broxton Day, "that cab could have come from, and returned to, any one of a dozen places within a few miles of Greensboro." "But how do you know she was not driven right to the railroad station, as long as you are sure she did not go to Pickletown?" "I found out," said Mr. Day, quietly, that there isn't a Swede in town who drives a taxi.
The last daddy learned about her over at Pickletown, some of the Swedish people there thought she must have gone off to get married. She was going with a young man who works in one of the pickle factories. His name is Willie Sangreen." "And what's become of him?" asked the interested Bertha. "He went away, too." "They ran off and got married! Of course!" cried the romance-loving Bertha.
Day had found her in "Pickletown," as the hamlet at the pickle works was called. There Olga, recently arrived in Greensboro, had been living with friends. Mr. Day went over there first of all to search for the girl. But her whilom friends knew nothing about Olga since the previous evening. They did not know that she contemplated leaving Mr. Day.
It doesn't seem as though a girl could disappear so completely wiped right off the map " "Vigorously expressed, I admit," her father interrupted. "But we must not begin to doubt everybody's word about it. I guess Johnson is honest." "And those other people who knew her in Pickletown?" "They simply don't know what has become of her. Or of Willie Sangreen, either," Daddy admitted.
There is a chance yet of finding Olga and the box, too," said her father, trying to comfort his little daughter. "I will not give up the search. Willie Sangreen will of course come back to his job, and he must know what has become of Olga. Those Swedes are very clannish indeed, over there at Pickletown; but some of them bank with us, and I am sure they will be on the lookout for the girl.
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