Then she sat down to think. There was nothing to do but wait. She was a brave little person, but as she saw how dark it was growing and thought of home with all its light and cheer she could not keep the tears out of her eyes.
How foolish she had been, and naughty, too! What right had she to the book? She ought to have asked her father's permission before she thought of going for it. This was all quite clear now.
The room was cold, and outside the wind whistled about the house. The snow had begun to fall so thickly that when she went to the window she could not see the street. It was some comfort to turn on the electric light, but it did not keep her from being cold and tired and hungry. The clock said a quarter past six; in a few minutes more they would be eating dinner at home. Somebody must come; she couldn't stay there all night.
She went to the door again and called "Bruce! Bruce!" till she was tired. Slowly the hands of the clock moved on: seven; half-past; eight. Her excited imagination began to bring to her mind all the stories of burglars she had ever heard. Suppose some one should come to rob the house, knowing the family were away! She was afraid to take her eyes off the door, and much as she longed for release she almost dreaded to see it open. She sat on the floor, pulling a great bear-skin rug over her, and by and by she fell asleep with her head on a chair. Then she dreamed that she was out in a sleigh in a furious snow-storm. Carl was with her and Bruce was driving, and they were chased by wolves. (This was probably suggested by the story she had been reading, which was one of Russian adventure.) The wolves gained upon them, though they seemed to be going like the wind; she felt their hot breath on her face as they climbed over the back of the sleigh. Just as she was being dragged out she thought Carl cried, "There goes Louise!" Then she opened her eyes to find herself on the library floor, with Mr. Caruth and Bruce standing over her, and Dan, the big mastiff, trying to lick her face. The clock on the mantel said half-past ten.
About half an hour earlier Mr. Caruth, going home on a street-car, met an acquaintance who remarked that he had just seen Mr. Hazeltine, who was much worried over the disappearance of his little girl. His informer did not know which of the children it was, or any particulars, and after riding another block Mr. Caruth rang the bell and got off, intending to go hack to the Hazeltines and learn the truth of the matter.
On his way to take the down-town car he passed Mr. William Hazeltine's house. He noticed that only a dim light burned in the hall, and recalled the fact that they were out of town, but happening to glance in the direction of the library he was surprised to see it brilliantly illuminated. Hesitating for a moment, he turned and went up the steps. "I'll take occasion to ask Bruce if he knows anything about one of the children getting lost," he said to himself.
After some minutes the door was opened by the sleepy-looking man, who was not disposed to be quite amiable. In reply to Mr. Caruth's question he said he knew nothing about it.
"Well, see here, Bruce, what does that light in the library mean? Mr. and Mrs. Hazeltine are both away, aren't they?"
The man looked at him in surprise, and said there wasn't any light in the library.
"Just come out here, then, and tell me what you call this," and Mr. Caruth led the way to the corner of the house.