Cautiously and on tiptoe she led the way to the hall and toward the head of the front stairs. There she seized her cousin's arm and whispered in her ear.
“Listen—!” she breathed.
Thankful listened.
“Why—why,” she whispered, “there's somebody down in the livin'-room! Who is it?”
“I don't know. There are more than one, for I heard them talking. Who CAN it be?”
Thankful listened again.
“Where's Georgie?” she whispered, after a moment.
“In his room, I suppose. . . . What? You don't think—”
Thankful had tiptoed back to her own room and was returning with the lamp. Together they entered Georgie's bed chamber. But bed and room were empty. Georgie was not there.