the midst of that
inclosure of men's cold eyes, seemed to be the last touch needed to
overthrow her tottering reason. She stopped, swaying from the
unaccustomed cessation of motion, and held out her arms, smiling
vacantly and babbling baby-talk in German as though to a dearly loved
little _Maedchen_ of her own.

Swift horror piled on Sissy. She had never looked into eyes from which
sense had fled, and the sight stamped itself upon her brain with
terrible vividness as food for future nightmares. So frightened was she
that she was not aware of Jan Lally's relaxed hold upon her arm, which
ached from the tight grip he had had upon it. But when the overtaxed
body of the German woman fell in a heap almost at her feet, fright
became action in Sissy. She flew past old Jan (his one concern now being
for his walking-match), past the knees of the staring men, up the
interminable center aisle, her poor train switching behind her as she
stumbled, yet ran on, so absorbed by her suffering that she was unaware
of the attention her queer little figure attracted, till she was out at
last in the free air.

* * * * *

"Well, punish me!" she said, when she found Aunt Anne waiting for her at
the head of the long steps fifteen minutes later.

It was a good deal for a Madigan--the nearest they ever got to _mea
culpa_: they were not Christians.

* * * * *

Sissy's arrival was hailed by a populous nightgowned world, sent, like
herself, supperless for its sins to the purgatory of early bedtime.
Split came stealing in from the other room, bringing Frank along that
she might not cry and betray her elder sister's movements--a successful
sort of blackmail the youngest Madigan often practised. And later, Kate,
looking most conventional and full-dressed in this nightgowned society,
brought succor for the starving. They munched chocolate and camped
comfortably, three on each bed, while Sissy told her adventures. When
she came to the description of Von Hagen's fall, though still shuddering
at the memory, she acted the incident so dramatically that Frances set
up a howl, which was, however, most fortunately drowned by the ringing
of the front-door bell.

Split started to answer it, but her nightgowned state gave her pause.
"Perhaps father'll go," she suggested.

Kate shook her head. "He didn't come to dinner; he's been shut up in his
room all day."

"What's the matter?" asked Sissy.