“I locked the door about eleven o’clock last night,” he explained, fumbling nervously with the key. “The little girl must have stolen in there sometime between six o’clock and that hour.”
The old man’s hand shook so that he could not unlock the door. Taking the key, Penny did it for him. Adelle, her hair flying wildly about her face, stumbled out of the shop.
“I’m hungry,” she sobbed. “It was cold in there, and a big rat kept running around. Why did you lock me inside?”
“Why, bless you,” Mr. McGuire murmured, “I never dreamed anyone was inside the shop! How did you get in there?”
“I went inside last night and hid,” Adelle explained in a calmer voice. “It was cold outside and I had to have some place to sleep.”
“You never should have run away from the Home,” Penny reproved. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I don’t like it there,” the child answered defiantly. “I’ll never be adopted like the other children.”
“Why, how silly!” Penny answered. “Of course someone will adopt you.”
Adelle shook her head. “Miss Anderson says I won’t be—I heard her tell the matron. It’s on account of a nervous ’fliction. I’m afraid of things, ’specially cars.”
“That’s very natural, everything considered,” Penny replied, thinking of the story Miss Anderson had told her. “Now I’ll take you to the Home.”