“Then you’ll never know who you really are, Nance. At least, you can be sure Grace’s father will never tell you.”
“If he knows.”
“If he doesn’t know, and isn’t afraid of your finding out, what does he bother with us this way for?” demanded Jennie, angrily.
“Maybe we can get out of the window?”
“It’s at the back of the house. We couldn’t get out of the yard.”
“Let’s scream.”
“Who’d hear us here? Might as well save our breath,” said Jennie.
“I—I wish Scorch was here,” declared Nancy.
“So do I—with all my heart. Bless his red head! He’d get us out of this in short order.”
As she spoke there came a tapping on one of the window-panes. Jennie and Nancy both ran to the window, drew aside the heavy curtain and raised the shade.