Marjorie stared. Here was a new view of the case. Her mother seemed to think that she had been in danger rather than in mischief.
"Oh," went on Mrs. Maynard, still shuddering, "my precious child, alone in that great empty building!"
"Why, Mother," said Marjorie, kissing her tears away, "that was just it. An empty building couldn't hurt me! Do you think I was naughty?"
"Oh, I don't know whether you were naughty, or not; I'm so glad to have you safe and sound in my arms."
"I'll never do it again, Mother."
"Do it again? Well, I rather think you won't! I shall never leave you alone again. I felt all the time I oughtn't to go off and leave you children last night."
"Nonsense, my dear," said Mr. Maynard, "the children must be taught self-reliance. But we'll talk this matter over some other time. Marjorie, you'll be late to school if you're not careful. And listen to me, my child. I don't want you to tell any one of what you did last evening. It is something that it is better to keep quiet about. Do you understand? This is a positive command. Don't ask me why, just promise to say nothing about it to your playmates or any one. No one knows of it at present, but your mother, Kingdon, and myself. I prefer that no one else should know. Will you remember this?"
"Yes, Father; can't I just tell Gladys?"
Mr. Maynard smiled.
"Marjorie, you are impossible!" he said. "Now, listen! I said tell no one! Is Gladys any one?"