"Yes, we'll all help," promised Bettie, "if you'll just tell us what to do. Only please don't get us into any more trouble with our mothers."
"There's the cellar," suggested Mabel, doubtfully, yet with glimmerings of hope. "I read a story once about a lady who sat on a cellar door, knitting stockings."
"Why in the world," demanded Marjory, "did she sit on the door?"
"Some soldiers were hunting for an escaped prisoner and she had him hidden there."
"Was the cellar all horrid with old papers and rats and mice and spiders and crawly things with legs?" asked Bettie, with interest.
"I hope not," shuddered Mabel, "but a soldier wouldn't mind. Dear me, I wish we'd cleaned that cellar when we first came into the Cottage. If we had, it'd be just the place to hide Rosa Marie in."
"Perhaps it isn't too late, now," said Marjory, stooping to loosen the ring in the kitchen floor. "Let's look down there, anyway."
"Let's," agreed Bettie. "It'll be something to do, at least."
Everybody helped with the door. When it was open and propped against the kitchen stove, the four girls crouched down to peer into the depths below. Even Rosa Marie, who had been released from the table-leg, crept to the edge to look.