"I expect the boys have given up looking for me and are having tea," she thought miserably, with a pang of self-pity, and she shed a few tears, for she was beginning to feel hungry, and thirsty too. She pushed desperately against her prison, but the old oaken case was firmly secured to the wall, and she could not move it though she exerted all her strength; then she tried to change her position, for she was growing cramped, but there was not room for her to do so. Supposing, after all, no one came into the room that night and she had to remain there till morning, how awful that would be; and the worst of it was, she could not tell how time was passing, shut up there in the dark. It appeared to poor Polly that she had already been imprisoned for hours.
Meanwhile, Roger and Edgar were searching the house from attic to basement; and it was not until tea-time that they ceased their quest. Mrs. Marsh had driven out with her visitors, so the boys had their tea alone in the dining-room, for, as Edgar remarked, it was no good waiting for Polly to turn up, she could have her tea when she chose to appear.
"I can't think where she can be," Roger said, a trifle uneasily, when, after tea, he and his cousin strolled out into the garden. "I suppose nothing can have happened to her?"
"What could happen to her?" questioned Edgar. "It's stupid of her to keep away like this." Then, as they encountered a gardener, he asked him if he had seen Polly anywhere about the grounds, only to receive a decided reply in the negative.
About six o'clock Mrs. Marsh and her friends returned from their drive, and were greatly astonished to hear of the little girl's disappearance; and then Mr. Marsh arrived upon the scene and was informed that his niece was missing.
"The little monkey is hiding to cause a sensation," he said with a smile. "Why, Roger, you appear alarmed! That's foolish."
"Polly would not stay away at tea-time if she could help it," the little boy responded gravely. "I know she must be hungry, because we had dinner early. Suppose she should be shut up somewhere unable to get out—in, a chest, perhaps, like the bride in 'The Mistletoe Bough'?"
Everyone laughed at this suggestion; it seemed so very improbable.
"Oh, she'll turn up presently, never fear," said Mr. Marsh consolingly. "I shouldn't look for her any further. I expect she's laughing in her sleeve at you all the while." He had been standing, talking, in the hall, and now he pushed open the baize-covered swing door to go to his study. "You boys can come and look at my stamps and coins if you like," he proceeded. "I don't think Roger has ever seen them. Good gracious! What on earth is that? Why, someone's calling for help!" And he hurried down the passage, followed by the boys, and entered the study.
"Oh!" wailed a muffled-sounding, frightened voice, though no one was to be seen. "Come quickly! Oh, please do come and let me out!"