He set out on a run again for the front veranda, dragging her after him. The girl did not cry, although she was certainly badly frightened by the storm.
They reached the door of the big house, saturated. Here Mr. Steele turned to her again.
“Who are you? What are you doing around here, anyway?” he demanded.
“Ain’t—ain’t this the place where they got a bunch of fresh air kids?” asked the girl.
“What?” gasped Mr. Steele. “I should say not! Are you one of those young ones Caslon has taken to board to the annoyance of the whole neighborhood? Ha! what were you doing trespassing on my land?”
“I ain’t neither!” returned the girl, pulling away her hand. “You lemme be.”
“I forbade any of you to come up here——”
“I ain’t neither,” reiterated the girl. “An’ I don’t know what you mean. I jest got there. And I’m lookin’ for the place where the fresh air kids stay.”
In the midst of this the door was drawn open and Mrs. Steele and some of the girls appeared.
“Do come in, Father,” she cried. “Why! you’re soaking wet. And that child! bring her in, whoever she is. Oh!”