The problem solved itself for the man with the sword, and his brow cleared. “Grandchildren next,” roared the threatening man.
“Grandchildren,” echoed the crowd.
Hattie and Sadie were pushed forward from somewhere, Hattie lifting her voice. But what was the cry of a Hattie before the brazen utterance of the band? Sadie was weeping wildly.
Emmy Lou with the courage of despair cried out in the grasp of the threatening man, but the man lifting her into the carriage, was speaking himself, and to the driver. “Keep an eye on them—separated from the family,” he was explaining, and a moment later Hattie and Sadie were lifted after Emmy Lou into the carriage, and as the door banged, their carriage moved with the rest up the street.
“Now,” said Hattie, and Hattie sprang to the farther door.
It would not open. Things never will in dreadful dreams.
Through the carriage windows the school, with its arched doorways and windows, gazed frowningly, reproachfully. A gentleman entered the gate and went in the doorway.
“It’s our minister,” said Sadie, weeping afresh.
Hattie beat upon the window, and called to the driver, but no mortal ear could have heard above that band.
“An’ my grown-up brother, an’ gran’ma an’ the rest,” said Hattie. And Hattie wept.