CHAPTER XXII
THE RETURN OF DOLORES
It was shattered by a gentle knock at Miss Carroll’s door. Light as was the rapping, it caused the occupants of the room to start nervously.
“It’s Dad.”
Patsy ran to the door, turned the key and opened it.
It was not Mr. Carroll, however, who had rapped. Instead a shy little figure stood in the corridor. Patsy promptly reached out and hauled the newcomer into the room with two affectionate arms.
“Dolores, you brave little thing!” she cried out admiringly. “You went all the way in the dark alone for help. Come over here, dear, and sit down by Auntie. You must be all tired out.”
Patsy led Dolores to a deep chair beside Miss Martha and pushed her gently into it. The girl leaned wearily back in it. For a moment she sat thus, eyes closed, her long black lashes sweeping her tanned cheeks. Then she opened her eyes, looked straight up at Miss Martha and smiled.
“It is the heaven,” she said solemnly.
“You poor, dear child.”