Soon—almost immediately—Mrs. Rollins came down stairs in a terrible state of anxiety. She scarcely noticed Mrs. Marlow, who was watching her through the open door of her room, but hurried on her sad errand.
"Now's my chance!" thought Mrs. Marlow. "I hope the brat's asleep."
She crept softly up stairs and stealthily opened the door of her neighbor's room without knocking. Once in the room, she looked cautiously toward the bed. Grace had her face turned toward the wall and was in a light slumber.
"Heaven be praised!" thought Mrs. Marlow.
She walked on tiptoe to the bureau and opened the upper drawer. There was the purse! Mrs. Rollins had gone out in such a hurry that she had not thought to take it.
Mrs. Marlow took it hurriedly and dropped it into her capacious pocket.
Before she could leave the room Grace woke, and turning her head saw her.
"What's the matter, Mrs. Marlow? Why are you here?" she asked, in a startled voice.
"Drat the child!" muttered Mrs. Marlow, under her breath. Then aloud, "I thought you was asleep, my dear, and I didn't want to disturb you."