But where were the twins? That was the question. They were nowhere to be seen in the saloon, and Gretel’s heart sank. Suppose she failed to find them before those five precious minutes were up; what should she do? She never thought of her own danger of being carried off; her one desire was to rescue her two little friends before it was too late. There were very few passengers on board that day, for many who had intended taking the trip had changed their plans on account of the storm. The saloon was practically deserted, and Gretel met no one as she hurried along, calling eagerly, “Jerry, Geraldine; oh, children, where are you?”
But this time her voice was not drowned by the gale, and suddenly the door of one of the staterooms was opened a very little way, and a laughing, mischievous face peeped out.
With a bound Gretel reached the door; pushed it farther open, and forced her way in.
“Come back,” she cried authoritatively; “come back this minute; the boat’s going to start. Oh, how could you do such a dreadful thing?”
But Jerry and Geraldine did not come back; on the contrary, they retreated to the furthest corner of the stateroom.
“We’re going to Baltimore,” announced Jerry; “we’re stowaways. Come in and shut the door.”
“Oh, how can you be so silly?” cried Gretel, actually stamping her foot in her impatience; “you know perfectly well you can’t go off to Baltimore by yourselves. Besides, it’s an awful storm; the boat may be wrecked.”
But if Gretel hoped to frighten the twins by this dreadful possibility, she was much mistaken.
“Shipwrecked!” cried Jerry, with a little skip of delight; “oh, goody, that would be the best of all! Come in and shut the door; if anybody sees us we can’t be stowaways.”
“But you can’t be stowaways, you know you can’t. I never heard of anything so ridiculous. Oh, children, do come quick; there’s the whistle.”