“No, Bet. Oh, you are wonderful!”
“Now,” said Betty, “we must take the sheets off our three beds. The three top sheets will do. Sylvia, begin to knot the sheets together. Make the knots very strong, and be quick about it.”
Sylvia obeyed without a word.
“Hester, come and help me,” said Betty now. She took the other twin’s hand and led her to one of the French windows. The window happened to be a little open, for the night was a very warm and balmy one. Betty pushed it wider open, and the next minute she was standing on the balcony.
“Go back,” she whispered, speaking to Hester, “and bring Sylvia out with the sheets!”
In a very short time Sylvia appeared, dragging what looked like a tangled white rope along with her.
“Now, then,” said Betty, “you’ve got to let me down to the ground by means of these sheets. I am a pretty good weight, you know, and you mustn’t drop me; for if you did I might break my leg or something, and that would be horrid. You two have got to hold one end of these knotted sheets as firmly as ever you can, and not let go on any account. Now, then—here goes!”
The next instant Betty had clutched hold of one of the sheets herself, and had climbed over the somewhat high parapet of the balcony. A minute later, still firmly holding the white rope, she was gradually letting herself down to the ground, hand over hand. By-and-by she reached the bottom. When she did this she held up both hands, which the girls, as they watched her from above, could just see. She was demanding the little spade. Sylvia flung it on the soft grass which lay beneath. Betty put her hand, making a sort of trumpet of it, round her lips, and whispered up, “Stay where you are till I return.”
She then marched off into the shrubbery. She was absent for about twenty minutes, during which time both Sylvia and Hetty felt exceedingly cold. She then came back, fastened the little spade securely into the broad belt of her dress, and, aided by her sisters, pulled herself up and up, and so on to the balcony once more.
The three girls re-entered the bedroom. Not a soul in that great house had heard them, or seen them, or knew anything about their adventure.