"Good gracious!" exclaimed all the women, after the first shock of surprise was over.
"My patience," said Robertson, and down they all went on their hands and knees like a party of kangaroos, peering under the bed.
There lay Becky, rosy with sleep, safe and sound, with puckered face and plaintive voice, evidently wondering what all the fuss was about.
They hauled her from under the bed, and placed her on her mother's knee, where she sat blinking at the light like a young owl.
"Why," said Nesta, "she must have tumbled out of bed in her sleep, and rolled over underneath."
"So she must," agreed every one.
"That was the noise Peter heard," Eustace said.
"Of course it was," said every one except Mrs. Orban; and she said, as she bent her face over the baby in her arms,—
"Oh, you dreadful children! Have you a conspiracy amongst you to frighten me out of my wits? Or are you trying to harden my nerves? I begin to wish your father would come home."
She laughed a little, and it sounded much more like sobbing. So kind Mrs. Robertson hurried every one off to bed, because she said Mrs. Orban must be quite worn out.