“Oh, Mrs. Munsen!” protested Marjorie. “You surely don’t believe them!”
“No, but I’d just as soon nobody stayed there all night. Of course I didn’t say anything—I didn’t want to frighten Anna—”
“I should hope not!” cried Marjorie. “For you know she’s priceless!”
So late was the hour that she did not invite John to come in, but hurried immediately to her own room. She was very tired, and wanted to get as much sleep as possible; she crawled into bed very quietly, in order that she might not arouse Ethel. She sincerely hoped that she would not be disturbed until morning.
But her hopes were short-lived, for less than an hour had passed when she was sharply awakened by the continued ringing of the door-bell. She sat up immediately, reaching for her slippers and kimona. But by the time she arrived at the head of the stairs, she heard the door being opened.
“Oh, Mrs. Munsen!” cried a shrill, female voice. “Something’s happened to Anna! Something awful! She’s gone!”
“Gone where?” asked the terrified housekeeper, in a hoarse voice.
“I don’t know where!” gasped the woman.
By this time all of the girls were awake, and had gathered at the foot of the stairs. The visitor sank suddenly to the floor in a faint.
“Bring some water—and aromatic spirits!” directed Mrs. Munsen, as Florence and Alice raised the woman to the couch. “It is Anna’s aunt,” she explained. “She and Anna planned to stay at the tea-house all night!”