e's run away."

"Never mind, Beth. You can have half of mine."

They ate their scanty meal in silence. It was growing so dark that
immediately after supper they went to bed.

Neither of the children felt comfortable, but neither would own it.

"Isn't this heaps of fun, Beth?"

"Yes, heaps, Julia."

Then each of them let a great sigh escape. Silence prevailed for
awhile. All the world seemed asleep. Such stillness was terrifying to
the children.

"Are you asleep, Julia?"

"No, but I thought you were."

Again they were quiet until it had grown pitch dark.

"I can't sleep."

"Neither can I, but it's fun, isn't it?"

"It's a sperience, Julia."

Again two great sighs, and then quiet once more.

Suddenly, there was a hoot right above them. Julia and Beth both gave
such a start that they almost tumbled out of the tree. Then two scared
whispers were heard:

"What was that?"

"I don't know."

Another hoot.

"I wish we were together, Julia."

"So do I. Say, Beth, I believe there's room for you here with me.
Let's try it."

"I'm afraid to come."

"Don't be a 'fraid cat."

"I'm not, only----" For the third time that melancholy hoot above them.

"Julia, come to me."

"I won't do it. I spoke first You come here."

Solitude was so terrifying that Beth risked the trip across for
companionship. Fortunately, the hoot did not occur during her trip to
Julia, or she would probably have landed on the ground.

The space proved rather narrow, and rather perilous for two, but Beth
and Julia snuggled together very close.

Soon the hooting began again, and continued at regular intervals.

"I believe it's a hoot-owl."

"So it is."

Although they knew it was only an owl, the melancholy cry was neither
conducive to sleep nor to high spirits. The children found it
decidedly depressing. They talked awhile in whispers. The sound of
one's own voice even is startling in such a situation. Very often they
sighed, and sometimes there was a pensive quietness broken only by the
hoot-owl.

"What time do you s'pose it is, Julia?"

"I think it must be twelve at least. They're not coming for us
to-night. They've forgotten us."

Their parents had not forgotten them, but when meal-time came and they
did not appear, the Davenports supposed they were over at the Gordons',
and the Gordons thought they were at the Davenports'. The children
often stayed for meals without asking, and so neither family worr