"Oh, she is all right now, no danger at all. She'll do fine. Let her sleep. Send Fairy to bed, too. Keep Prudence quiet a few days,—that's all. She's all right."
They did not hear the timid knock at the dungeon door. But after they had gone out, Mr. Starr locked the door behind them, and started back through the hall to see if the kitchen doors were locked. He distinctly heard a soft tapping, and he smiled. "Mice!" he thought. Then he heard something else,—a faintly whispered "Father!"
With a sharp exclamation he unlocked and opened the dungeon door, and Connie fell into his arms, sobbing piteously. And he did the only wise thing to do under such circumstances. He sat down on the hall floor and cuddled the child against his breast. He talked to her soothingly until the sobs quieted, and her voice was under control.
"Now, tell father," he urged, "how did you get in the dungeon? The twins——"
"Oh, no, father, of course not, the twins wouldn't do such a thing as that. I went into the dungeon to pray that Prudence would get well. And I prayed myself to sleep. When I woke up the door was locked."
"But you precious child," he whispered, "why didn't you call out, or pound on the door?"
"I was afraid it would excite Prue and make her worse," she answered simply. And her father's kiss was unwontedly tender as he carried her upstairs to bed.
Prudence slept late the next morning, and when she opened her eyes her father was sitting beside her.
"All right this morning, father," she said, smiling. "Are the girls at school?"
"No,—this is Saturday."