Turning in at the gate, which even in the night could be seen to form a little arch in vines and bushes, Officer Cosgrove tapped lightly on the door, which was opened before the echo of his last tap had died away.
"Here we are, Mary," he announced to the woman standing in the portal. "I just brought you a little girl—who—is lost. Take care of her while I go after the—other. She didn't take so kindly to Jim as this one did," and with a friendly little push, he ushered Dagmar into the narrow hall, and turned out into the roadway, from whence his light footfall could immediately be heard hurrying over the cinder-covered path.
"Come in, girl," ordered Mrs. Cosgrove. "What happened to you?"
Dagmar was bewildered. What had happened to her? What should she answer!
"I am—away—from home," she managed to reply. "The officer said I could go back tomorrow."
The inadequacy of her reply sounded foolish even to Dagmar, but she was constrained to feel her way. She could never blurt out the fact that she had actually run away from home!
"Oh, I see," said Mrs. Cosgrove with a tone of uncertainty. "Run away, eh?"
"Yes'm," said Dagmar defencelessly.
"Too bad. Didn't your folks treat you right?"
"Oh, yes," hurried Dagmar to correct any such impression as that question conveyed. "But I wanted to help them—all, and I thought I—could!"