She shook her head in denial of this possibility and was still puzzling the matter when there came a gentle knock at her door.
“Come in,” she whispered, and Harriot tiptoed into the room with a plate of goober pralines in her hand.
“April would say we should be in bed,” she announced in an undertone with a glance at the wall between the two rooms; “but when she has girls staying with her, she thinks it’s all right if they sit up half the night, gossiping and giggling and eating pralines. She thinks we’re children,” she ended in a tone of disgust.
“Well, we’re growing up,” said Dorothea philosophically. “I’m nearly as tall as she is.”
“And I had to have a band put around my skirts I’ve grown so,” Harriot declared with a hint of pride. “They’ve been let down till there isn’t any more material left to let!”
While Harriot was speaking Dorothea had become aware of a strange and menacing sound afar off.
“Listen, Harriot,” she murmured, “what is that queer noise?”
“It’s the hounds!” Harriot answered after a moment. “They’re out after some one, and they seem to be getting nearer.” She jumped up and, putting out the light, ran to the window.
“Hounds?” questioned Dorothea, going quickly to her side. “Do you mean dogs?”
“Yes, of course,” Harriot replied. “They’re out after some one. They use the hounds to track servants who run away.”