"Oh, Dot, they are coming straight up here," Mary gasped; and both girls sprang back in dismay at sight of the procession beginning to file up the stairway, preceded by the landlord, who now carried a candlestick in either hand.
Scarcely knowing what they were doing, and intent solely upon concealing themselves, they darted through the doorway of the nearest room, which was lighted only by a cheery wood fire.
"They will surely see us as they go by," whispered Mary, for, once inside, they saw that the door by which they had entered was in the extreme corner of the room, rendering the entire interior visible to a passer-by.
"Let us shut the door," Dorothy suggested.
But Mary said quickly, "No, that will never do. The landlord may have left it open, and would notice it being closed."
It had not occurred to them that all this was probably on account of the room being one of those assigned to the new guests, for Mary had given but slight heed to what Mistress Trask said as to the entire upper floor being taken, and Dorothy had heard naught of the matter beyond what Mary told her.
"Here is another room," said the younger girl joyfully, for her alert eyes had spied a half-closed door communicating with an inner and dark apartment.
It took them only a moment to gain this place of refuge and shut the door; then, standing close to it, they listened for any sound to indicate the passage of the procession down the hall, and so leave them an opportunity to return unobserved to their own apartments.
"I wish we had never done so foolish a thing," Mary said in a low voice. She was breathing rapidly, and trembling from agitation.
"So do I—as it is," was Dorothy's hurried answer. "But if I only could have seen him, so as to know him, I should not care."