"She probably hasn't gone home herself, on account of the storm."
They had been conversing together at the top of the stairs, and now made
their way to the dining-room, where, after opening the shutters, they
stood looking out at the rain. The peals of thunder had died away into
distant mutterings, but it was still raining hard.
"Somehow we always get into trouble when it rains," Dimple remarked.
"Don't let's talk about that," returned Florence. "See how the raindrops
dance up and down. Little water fairies they are. Don't they look as if
they were having a good time?"
"Yes; but I'm getting hungry. I wonder if it isn't most dinner time. Do
you suppose it will rain all afternoon, Florence?"
"I don't know. If it holds up we'll have to run between the drops."
"But how can we get out? We could never climb down that sopping wet
tree, and we would be very wicked to leave any part of the house down
here unfastened. Some one might see us and try to get in."
They lapsed into a grave silence which was presently broken by a
startled "What's that?" from Dimple. She heard a sound like the click of
a key turning in a latch. They listened fearfully, as the sound was
followed by the shutting of a door, and the noise of footsteps along the
hall. The two girls looked at each other.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59