Chuck was waiting at the corner of the street when school closed that afternoon, but it was not for Muriel that he watched. He wanted to talk to Phyllis. He was desperately unhappy and he had to talk to some one. Boys, even his best friends, were not sympathetic enough. Muriel would be sure to blub; Chuck had seen her that morning. Daphne would drawl and that would drive him crazy, so it was for Phyllis that he waited, sure of her ready sympathy, for she had loved Don.

Phyllis came down the steps with Janet and Sally and Daphne, but as soon as she saw him she left the girls and hurried towards him.

“Oh, Chuck, Muriel has told us about Don, and I want you to know how terribly we all feel,” she said sincerely. “Have you had any news?”

“Only a letter for my uncle, telling him to go to some old house way up in Bronxville and to bring a lot of money with him,” Chuck replied. “The police tell him not to go, but I think he will; you see the letter says if he doesn’t come that they will hurt Don.”

“Oh, how dreadful, how detestable!” Phyllis exclaimed. “How could any one be so wicked, and to Don above all people!” Chuck looked at her quickly. He expected to see tears in her eyes, but instead he saw anger flashing burning anger.

“When does the letter tell him to be at the house?” she asked abruptly.

“A week from to-day.”

“Why not sooner, I wonder.”

“Because they figure that the longer Uncle Don has to wait the readier he’ll be to give them what they want. As if he cares how much money it is as long as he can get Don back again!” Chuck looked down the street and tried to keep his eyes clear from the tears that had threatened to flood them all morning. He too was seeing little Don’s chubby face.

“My mother is with Uncle Don now,” he went on after a minute’s pause, “but there isn’t much she can do or say. She’s almost as heartbroken as he is. It it’s pretty tough on the little chap,” he ended with a queer choke.

As they turned the corner, the girls joined them, and added their sympathy. But Chuck was in no mood to answer their questions, so with an abrupt “s’long” he turned at the next street and left them.

“Let’s go up to the snuggery,” Janet suggested. “I don’t feel up to much to-day.”

“Neither do I,” Sally said. “I can’t think of anything but Don, poor little mite. I hope they are kind to him.”

“Oh, Sally, for pity’s sake stop!” Phyllis spoke so sharply that the girls turned to look at her: her eyes were still flashing but her lip trembled.

“I can’t bear it,” she added more softly.

“Sorry,” Sally said penitently, and they walked in silence until they reached the house.

“Auntie Mogs, we’re all very unhappy,” Janet began as they stopped to greet Miss Carter in the hall. “Little Donald Keith has been kidnapped. Muriel Grey cried all through school, and Sally is not coming back after Christmas.”

It speaks well for Miss Carter’s understanding of her two nieces that she did not have to ask for a more concise statement but accepted Janet’s explanation in its entirety.

“How very sad,” she said at once. “Poor Mr. Keith must be almost frantic, and Mrs. Vincent too. I wish there was something I could do, though I know them so slightly. Sally dear, your mother told me this morning that you were not going back to school after the holidays and I am so very sorry. The girls will be desolate without you. How do you do, Daphne. I am very glad you came home with the girls. I like to see you four together. Go into the dining-room and have some luncheon right away,” she directed. “Perhaps that will make you feel better. What are you going to do this afternoon?”

“Nothing special,” Janet replied.

“Then I will ask a favor of you all,” she followed them to the dining-room and took her place at the head of the table.

“We’ll grant it before we hear it,” Daphne’s drawl sounded very soft and musical.

“Of course,” Sally agreed.

“What is it, Auntie Mogs?” Janet inquired.

Miss Carter smiled delightedly.

“That’s very sweet of you, but wait until you hear what it is I want you to do. This afternoon my class from the settlement is coming here for tea after I have taken them to the Art Museum. There are ten of them; all girls about your own age. I intended to give them chocolate and cake, as it is so cold to-day, and Annie was going to serve it, but this morning a telegram came saying her sister is very ill, so Annie is leaving on the three o’clock train for Buffalo and that leaves only Lucy. Will you do the waiting and serving for me?”

“Why, of course, we’d love to,” they all answered together.

“I can make delicious hot chocolate,” Sally announced, “so I might stay in the kitchen and help Lucy.”

“And have first whack at the cakes; I think not,” Daphne replied firmly.

“Now, my Aunt Jane’s poll parrot, was ever any one so misunderstood?” Sally turned to Miss Carter for sympathy.

“Never, my dear, I am sure Daphne’s suspicions are unjust.” Auntie Mogs laughed. “But I must hurry away or I will be late and that’s one thing my children can’t forgive. Poor darlings, they have so few outings that they hate to waste a minute of their precious time.”

“Why don’t you take them to the zoo?” Phyllis spoke for the first time, her voice sounded very tired but she smiled. “They’d like it a heap better than the museum.”

“No, dear, I think you’re wrong. They are all very anxious to see the pictures,” Auntie Mogs replied, “but perhaps we’ll stop in for a minute to see your beautiful Akbar on our way home.”

She left them and hurried off, and again an unhappy silence fell upon them as they finished their luncheon.

“Let’s go up to the snuggery,” Janet suggested; “we don’t have to help Lucy for hours yet.”

They climbed the stairs, followed by Boru and Galahad, and finally settled themselves comfortably in the little room.

“Let’s do our math,” Sally suggested. “It’s awfully hard. Taffy, you can help us.”

They pulled out the table and were soon at work. Phyllis tried to keep her mind on the problems before her, but her eyes wandered to the window where she could see that the shade across the yard was still pulled down. She welcomed Annie’s interruption a few minutes later.

“Please, miss,” she said, “Lucy finds that there is no chocolate in the house, so will you please telephone for some and tell them to bring it over right away.”

“No, I’ll go for it instead, Annie.” Phyllis jumped up, glad of an excuse to be alone.

“Thank you, miss.” Anne went downstairs, to assure Lucy that the chocolate would surely be there on time.

“Too bad,” Janet said, looking up from her paper. “We’ll all go with you, Phyl.”

“Don’t bother. The math is coming along so well with Taffy’s help, keep on with it. I won’t be a second, and I don’t mind going alone a bit. I’ll take Boru with me; he looks as though he wanted a run. How about it, old fellow?”

Boru wagged his tail, looked at Janet, and then followed Phyllis, barking lustily.

Once in the air with the stiff chill breeze in her face and Boru frisking beside her, she threw off some of the depression that was making the day horrible. The grocery was only a couple of blocks away, and she soon had her package and was on her way home.

As she turned the corner she found herself face to face with Miss Pringle. She was carrying a heavy suit case.

“Why, what are you doing in this neighborhood?” she asked, smiling.

Miss Pringle stopped, started forward and stopped again.

“Why er er I how do you do?” she stammered, so plainly ill at ease that Phyllis looked at her in amazement.

“We had a wonderful time at our masquerade,” she said in an attempt to make conversation.

“Yes, yes, to be sure, dear me, good-by, young lady I ” She was indeed flustered, and Phyllis could hardly repress a smile, for Miss Pringle’s hat was well over one ear, and the dotted veil that should have covered her face was whipping itself into ribbons off the back of her head.

“But you haven’t told me what you are doing down here?” Phyllis insisted.

Miss Pringle looked really troubled.

“I can’t, indeed I can’t, young lady,” she almost cried. “I must go I must indeed.” She hurried on, keeping to the inside of the street and gazing about her furtively.

“Now, what under the sun is old Pringle up to?” Phyllis mused. “I never saw her so flustered. Well, come on, old man, let’s take a little walk before we go in. They’ll never miss us, and you needn’t tell Galahad.”

Boru looked up and cocked one ear rakishly, as though he thoroughly enjoyed the joke.

“Here, sir.” Ten minutes later Phyllis gave the command, and Boru stopped running so suddenly that he almost tripped on his nose.

Phyllis slipped her hand under his collar and pulled him behind the high stoop that they were just passing. She had seen Miss Pringle coming towards them almost a block away, and she had no desire for another conversation with her. She watched her approach, wondering where she was going, and hoping that she would enter some house before she reached their hidingplace.

Miss Pringle was still walking close to the houses and seemed to be in a terrible hurry. Her hat bobbed more than ever, and the short coat she wore bulged out in the wind, making her indeed a comical figure.

When she reached a house that was boarded up, she paused and looked quickly behind her. It looked as though she were alone on the street. Phyllis watched her, interested in spite of herself, and saw her bob down and disappear into an area way.

“Of course,” she said to Boru, as she loosed him from her hold, “I might have known where she was going. The Blaines’ caretaker must be a relation of hers. I saw him at her house that day. She must be going to stay with him. But why under the sun was she so mysterious about it, I wonder? And why doesn’t she stay in the basement instead of occupying Miss Amy’s dressing-room, and why the screen?”

Still very much puzzled, she walked home. The immediate preparations for the tea party occupied her for the remainder of the afternoon.