Part 15 (1/2)

”Oh, but you can't say,” answered Connie. ”Certain sure, it seemed as though Agnes spoke the truth.”

”I thought that too; only father's a very refined sort of man, and he'd never, never chuck Mrs. Warren under the chin.”

”Agnes might have invented that part,” said poor Connie. But in her heart of hearts she had long ago given up all hope of Ronald's father coming to fetch him.

”She might,” said Ronald; ”that is quite true; and he might have had to go to the country--perhaps to rescue some one in great danger. He is the sort who are always doing that. That's quite, quite likely, for it would be in keeping with father's way. And he'd like me, of course, to be unselfish, and never to make a fuss--he hated boys who made a fuss. Oh yes, I did believe it; and on Sat.u.r.day night and on Sunday, when Big Ben talked to us, it seemed that it was mother telling me that father would soon be with me. But a whole week has gone and he hasn't come. Why, it's Sat.u.r.day night again, Connie. I've been back again in this house for a whole week now, and father has never, never come.”

”Maybe he'll come to-night,” said Connie.

”I don't think so; somehow I'd sort of feel it in my bones if he was coming back.”

”What do yer mean by that?” said Connie.

”Oh, I'd be springy-like and jumpy about. But I'm not. I feel--oh, so lazy and so--so tired! and a little bit--yes, a greatbit--frightened--terribly frightened.”

”You must cheer up, Ronald,” said Connie. Then she added, ”I wish we could get out o' this. I wish I could pick the lock and get aw'y.”

”Oh, I wish you could, Connie,” said the child. ”Couldn't you try?”

”I'm a'most afeered to go into Mammy Warren's room,” said Connie; ”for ef she did come back and see me any time, she'd punish me awful; but p'r'aps I might find tools for picking the lock in her room.”

”Oh, do let's try!” said Ronald.

Connie half-rose, then sat down again.

”It's me that's the coward now,” she said.

”Oh, how so, Connie?”

”'Cos,” said Connie, ”there's that dark room with no winder--'tain't a dream, Ronald.”

”I thought it wasn't,” said Ronald, turning white.

”No--it's there,” said Connie, ”and I'm afeered o' it.”

Ronald sat very still for a minute then. He was thinking hard. He was only a little boy of ten years old, but he was a very plucky one. He looked at Connie, who although a little older than he, was very slight and small for her age.

”Connie,” he said, ”if you and I are ever to make our escape we must not be frightened. Even the dark closet won't frighten me now. _I_ am going into Mrs. Warren's room.”

”Oh Ronald! Are you? Dare you?”

”Yes, I dare. Father did worse things than that--why should I be afraid?”

”You'd win the V. C., Ronald, wouldn't you, now?”

Ronald smiled.

”Not for such a little, little thing. But perhaps some day,” he said; and his eyes looked very bright. ”Connie, if we can unpick the lock and get the door open, where shall we go?”

”We'll go,” said Connie in a brisk voice, ”back to Father John as fast as ever we can.”