all three sprang to their feet and turned pale faces toward the door— listening—listening.
Someone was coming up the stairs. There was no mistake about it. Each of them recognized the angry, mounting tread and knew that the end of all things had come.
“It’s—the missus!” choked Becky, and dropped her piece of cake upon the floor.
“Yes,” said Sara, her eyes growing shocked and large in her small white face. “Miss Minchin has found us out.”
Miss Minchin struck the door open with a blow of her hand.
and all is well.’”
Four knocks came from Becky’s side of the wall.
“That means,” explained Sara, “`Then, fellow-sufferer, we will sleep in peace. Good night.’”
Ermengarde quite beamed with delight.
“Oh, Sara!” she whispered joyfully. “It is like a story!”
“It IS a story,” said Sara. “EVERYTHING’S