mallness and secureness. Prudence raked up
the dying embers of the fire, and Fairy drew the blinds to their lowest
limits. The twins and Connie trailed them fearfully at every step.

When the fire was burning brightly, Prudence spoke with great
assurance. "I'll just run in to the dungeon and see for sure if the
money is there. I do not honestly believe there is a soul in the
house, but I can't rest until I know that money is safe."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Fairy, "you'll stay right here
and wait with us. I do not believe there's any one in the house,
either, but if there is, you shan't run into him by yourself. You stay
right where you are, and don't be silly. Mr. Allan will do the
investigating."

Every breath of wind against the windows drew startled cries from the
younger girls, and both Fairy and Prudence were white with anxiety when
they heard the loud voices of the Allans outside the kitchen door.
Prudence began crying nervously the moment the two angels of mercy
appeared before her, and Fairy told their tale of woe.

"Well, there now," Mr. Allan said with rough sympathy, "you just got
scared, that's all. Everything's suspicious when folks get scared. I
told my wife the other day I bet you girls would get a good fright some
time left here alone. Come on, Jim, and we'll go over the house in a
jiffy."

He was standing near the dining-room door. He lifted his head
suddenly, and seemed to sniff a little. There was undoubtedly a faint
odor of tobacco in the house.

"Been any men in here to-night?" he asked. "Or this afternoon? Think,
now!"

"No one," answered Prudence. "I was alone all afternoon, and there has
been no one in this evening."

He passed slowly through the dining-room into the hall, closely
followed by his son and the five girls, already much reassured. As he
passed the dungeon door he paused for a moment, listening intently, his
head bent.

"Oh, Mr. Allan," cried Prudence, "let's look in the dungeon first. I
want to see if the money is safe." Her hand was already on the lock,
but he shoved her away quickly.

"Is there any way out of that closet besides this door?" he asked.

"No. We call it the dungeon," laughed Prudence, her self-possession
quite recovered. "It is right under the stairs, and not even a mouse
could gnaw its way out, with this door shut."

"Who shut that door?" he inquired, still holding Prudence's hand from
the lock. Then without waiting