"'Most half the distance!" Why, Elsie could never hold out if that were the case. Once more she struggled on. It seemed as if she had been marching for years and years—ever since she was a baby. She could not drag herself another inch. In the midst of a cheer she crept up a flight of steps, and sank down.
"I'll wait a few minutes, and then run fast, and catch Joe again," thought she.
The next moment, as it seemed, she heard two voices near her.
"The party must be hard up that has to take babies like this to help on their cause," said one.
"Poor little fellow!" answered the other—a lady. "He's dropped down, torch and all, and gone to sleep."
Elsie started and looked around her. Where was the procession? Where was Joe? Too terrified to say a word, up the street she rushed, gazing wildly on this side and on that. No Joe did she see; no procession either. It would have been quite dark but for the street lamps.
"I must stop somewhere. I must ask some one for Joe."
At a house smaller than the others she paused, and rang the bell. There was a confused sound of talking within.
"Don't you open that door as you value your life, Phœbe Maria," said some one in shrill tones. "Us all alone! This time of night! It's tramps, sure!"
Then Phœbe Maria called through the key-hole, "Go right away. I sha'n't let you in if you stop there till midnight. De-part!"