ound was
followed by the shutting of a door, and the noise of footsteps along the
hall. The two girls looked at each other. "Let's hide," whispered
Florence, but before they had decided what to do, a man was seen
standing in the doorway. It was Mr. Atkinson.

"Well, well, well," he exclaimed, "where did you little girls come from?
You came in out of the rain, I suppose, but how did you manage it? Why,
Eleanor, is it you? I declare, I didn't know you. It is fortunate you
managed to escape the storm; it was a hard one."

Dimple stood very much confused, her color coming and going, and her
eyes very bright. But she summoned up courage to make the confession:
"We did come in out of the rain, Mr. Atkinson, but no one let us in, and
we didn't happen to come here on account of the storm."

"You didn't! Come here, then, and tell me about it." He drew her to his
side and looked down at her very kindly.

She dropped her eyes and hung her head in confusion, but she went on,
"We,--we thought it was so pretty here, and--and we thought you wouldn't
mind if we came and brought our dolls and sat on the porch a little
while; we didn't think you'd care if we were very good and didn't touch
anything. Then it was so easy to climb the tree and get on the other
porch, and when we got there,--why I wanted to show Florence the
portrait of your little girl, and we did not have to force the shutter
at all; it opened just as easy, and so did the window; and we went
downstairs, and while we were looking at the portrait the storm came up
and we were afraid to climb down the tree; it was blowing about so, and
we didn't like to go out any other way and leave the windows downstairs
unfastened. So--we stayed."

Mr. Atkinson listened quietly. "So you were housebreakers. Don't you
know that's a prison offence? Burglary is a pretty serious crime." He
looked very serious, and Dimple did not see the twinkle in his eyes.
Her own grew round with horror.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh! we didn't mean--" The tears began to gather, and
the child's lips quivered. She was overcome with dismay. "I am so sorry,
so dreadfully sorry," she quavered.

Mr. Atkinson put his hand on her sunny head. "There, dear, never mind,"
he said, "you were a very innocent pair of housebreakers, and you are a
very brave and honest little girl to tell me the truth about it, when
you might easily have allowed me to think it happened another way. Of
course, on general principles, it isn't