“Child!” gasped Miss Mackin. “Where were you?” She held her by both shoulders as if fearful she would disappear again.
“Under the tent,” replied Madaline, still gasping for breath. “The little trap door was open, you know, and I got so scared of that awful storm I just dropped down. I never thought you would miss me.”
“And didn’t you hear us?” demanded the excited Grace.
“Couldn’t hear anything but the storm. Wasn’t it dreadful?”
“Not half as bad as you hiding away like that,” Isabel was almost crying. “Why ever did you do it?”
“Why——”
“Never mind, children,” soothed the director. “She didn’t think we would miss her and I suppose she was terrified, but it isn’t wise to drop out of sight, especially at night. Get out of your clothes now. The storm is almost over, and to-morrow you will all have something interesting to write in your journals.”
“I heard something slam,” Corene recalled.
“That was the door. It hit me on the head,” said the innocent Madaline.
“Was it your head that made the bang?” Even in the present excitement Grace could not resist the joke.