hour, miss?"

"No--no--no; good-night, good-night!"

Ermengarde's voice already sounded far away. Her feet seemed to have
wings, she ran so fast. As she ran she heard the stable-clock strike
eleven.

"Oh, I do trust they have not locked up the house!" she exclaimed.
"Suppose they have, and suppose George has put the bolt on the
schoolroom window? He's as careless as possible about fastening the
bolts of the windows as a rule, but it would be like him to do it
to-night of all nights. Oh, what shall I do, if that has happened?"

Ermengarde's heart beat so fast at the bare idea that she could
scarcely run. She stumbled, too, over a piece of twig which lay across
her path, and falling somewhat heavily scraped her forehead. She had
no time to think of the pain then. Rising as quickly as possible, she
passed along the familiar road. How weary it was! How tedious! Would
it never, never end?

At last she came under the shadows caused by the rambling old house.
She flew down a side-walk which led through a shrubbery; now she was
passing under the window of Miss Nelson's private room, now she saw
the three long low windows of the dear cozy old schoolroom. The blinds
were drawn down, and there was light within--a faint light, it is
true, but still light. Ermengarde felt a sense both of relief and
fear.

The side-entrance door was reached at last. She turned the handle. Her
fingers were cold and trembling. The handle turned, but the door did
not move. Had she turned the handle of the door quite round--were her
fingers too weak for the task? She tried again in vain. Then she
uttered a sound something between a sob and a cry--she was really
locked out!

"What _shall_ I do?" murmured the unhappy child.

She looked around her wildly. She did not dare try the schoolroom
window while that light remained within. She leant up against the
locked door, trembling, incapable of action; a very little would have
made her lose her self-control.

At this moment her sharp ear heard a sound; the sound was made by a
movement in the schoolroom. Ermengarde started away a step or two from
the hall-door; she saw some one go up to one of the windows and,
without drawing up the blind, put a hand underneath to feel if the
fastening was to. It was not, but was immediately bolted. The steps
then went across the room.

At this moment Ermengarde felt desperate. Old George was faithful
to-night, of all nights. Dreadful, terrible old George!

Sud