“Then you go first,” said Betty; “we’ll give you two minutes by Helen’s watch. In that time you must have hidden yourself either in this house or about its large and spacious grounds. No fair going off the premises.”
Millicent departed on tiptoe, closing the door after her, and Betty continued:
“I’m second; so when the two minutes are up, I go and hide, and you allow me also two minutes in which to tuck myself away. Then so on until all are gone but our Helen, our pride and joy. After the last two minutes she starts to hunt, and the first one she finds goes with her to hunt the others; and so on, you know, until all are found but one, who is, of course, the lucky owner of Hester’s masterpiece of photographic art.”
The two minutes passed, and Betty went to hide. Then the others, one by one, until at last Helen was ready to start on her hunting expedition.
“They wouldn’t be so babyish as to hide behind doors,” she thought, as she looked behind several. “However, it’s best to be systematic. I’ll open every door I see.”
Acting on this plan, she opened the door of the sideboard as she passed that old-fashioned and roomy piece of furniture, and, to her surprise, there was the chubby Marguerite squeezed in between two shelves.
“Oh, help me out!” she cried. “I’m nearly dead.”
It was a close fit, but Helen pulled her out, and together they continued the search.
“Some one would be sure to hide in the kitchen,” declared the canny Matron, so they explored the cupboards there. And, as might have been expected, away back behind some pots and pans was Hester, who looked angrily at her discoverers.
“I thought I had such a good place,” she said, crawling out. “How ever did you find me?”