Just then, as if in answer to Maud, at last we heard a sound, or sounds—voices and footsteps, and then the grating of the key in the lock.
'They've come for us, they've come for us!' we cried, and up we all jumped. It was quite dark, but as the door opened a light came in; the people, whoever they were, had a lantern. But it wasn't Mr. Parsley, nor his wife, nor the red-eared boy, nor any one we knew—at least, not any one we expected. It was—the light was full in her face, and she was frowning just the sort of way I remembered—it was Miss Cross-at-first!
And just fancy what I did? I ran at her, I was so confused and stupid, calling her that!
'Oh, Miss Cross-at-first,' I said, 'please let us out! We've been locked in, hours, and Maud is so cold!'
It must have been awfully muddling for her. She frowned worse than ever, and turned to the girl with her—a girl about fifteen, not a lady, but very nice.
'Who are they, Linny?' she said. 'Do you know?'
But Linny shook her head.
'Some mistake,' she began, but I interrupted her.
'I'll tell you who we are,' I said. 'You know us, and we know you, but I can't remember your proper name,' and then it flashed upon me what I had called her, and I got scarlet.
'My name isn't "Crossley," or whatever you said,' she began (oh, how thankful I was she hadn't heard properly! Afterwards we told her the name we'd given her, and she didn't mind a bit), 'but I seem to know you. I'm staying at the Home here. I left my music in church, for I went off in a hurry. But what in the world were you all doing here?'