The girls had not.

"Wait then, and I'll get something on which to write your address."

The landlady went inside, closing the door after her, and in spite of
herself Billie uttered a little sigh of relief. She felt very much like a
reprieved criminal.

A moment later the woman reappeared with a pencil and paper and
painstakingly wrote down the address Billie gave her.

"Thank you so much," said the latter, as she turned away. "You won't
forget to send it just the first minute you can, will you?"

The woman nodded and closed the door with a little bang.

"I wonder why she didn't ask us in," said Laura, as they ran down the
steps. "It was queer to keep us waiting outside."

"Yes, it makes you feel like a book agent," chuckled Billie. "But oh,
girls," she added, "I didn't know how much I dreaded facing Miss
Beggs till I found out I didn't have to. I don't mind writing to her
nearly so much."

With somewhat lighter steps and lighter hearts they turned toward home.
But Billie could not get the hundred-dollar statue which she had broken
out of her mind.

"I feel," said Laura, as they were turning the corner into her own
street, "as if I ought to pay for that horrid old statue, Billie."