“Come,” said she, drawing her gently away from the door. “We will stay by the window, and when anybody goes by, we will knock and shout and call, and some one will let us out, I know.”
So the two little girls stationed themselves by the front window and looked longingly out at the sunny road, the dancing leaves, and oh, cruelest of all, the lunch basket on the porch steps, still guarded by the faithful Flip and Snowball.
Susan, her face streaked with dirt, polished off the window-glass as best she could with her pocket handkerchief.
“Grandmother will find us,” said she hopefully. “Or else Grandfather will. Don’t you be afraid, Gentilla.”
But in her heart she thought:
“Grandfather has gone fishing, and perhaps he won’t be home till black night. And I didn’t tell Grandmother where we were going; I know I didn’t tell her where we were going.”
These sad thoughts were interrupted by the welcome sound of wheels.
“Knock and scream, knock and scream!” called Susan excitedly.
And they fell to work with a will, Susan redoubling her efforts when she saw that it was Mr. Drew, hastening home behind little brown Molly.
But the clip, clap, clip, clap, of Molly’s hoofs drowned all the noise they made, and Mr. Drew, with not a glance toward the schoolhouse, drove out of sight.