Shoving the suitcase under the bed with his foot, he turned toward the door. Etta stretched out her thin little arms and entreated him to come back. Henry laughed harshly and slammed the door shut.
Etta became almost hysterical in her grief. She wailed and sobbed and beat upon the pillow with her puny fists, but, if Henry heard, he was not in the least affected. Doris and Kitty could hear him hurrying down the stairs to the second floor.
Satisfied that the coast was clear, they quickly came out of their hiding place. Filled with compassion for Etta, they rushed to her bedside. As the girl saw them, she tried to stifle her sobs.
“There, dear,” Doris tried to comfort her, “don’t cry. We’ll see that no harm comes to you.”
“You won’t let my father go away and leave me?”
“Not unless you want him to,” Doris assured her gently. Under her breath she said to Kitty: “It would almost be better for her if he did leave.”
“She couldn’t have any worse care,” Kitty agreed.
As soon as they had quieted Etta and had made her more comfortable against the pillows, the girls cast an appraising glance about the room. The scene which they had just witnessed made them wonder anew what mischief Henry and Cora Sully were plotting.
“They are planning to get away from here,” Doris said to her chum in a low voice. “That suitcase under the bed was packed.”
“And everything has been taken from the closet,” Kitty added. “There’s Cora’s suitcase back of that couch.”