her finger, at
the same time pointing toward the open door, and whispering:

"Sh--! Go quick and get Mr. Buffington. Tell him somebody is in his
room. Don't make a sound here. I'll watch while you're gone. Rush
now!"

Mr. Buffington, big and ponderous, soon appeared, puffing like an
engine. The maid saw him as he appeared above the stairs, and quickly
held up her finger, as a signal to him to make no noise.

Puzzled, yet impressed, the big man tip-toed along until he stood in
the doorway.

The intruder stood, back toward the door, and for the moment, was so
occupied with pulling over the contents of a large trunk that
footsteps outside the door were unnoticed.

"You little rascal!"

These words shouted made the intruder actually jump.

"Ah, now, Miss Gwen, how happened ye in there?" said the maid.

Gwen, thoroughly frightened, tried to rush from the room, but it was
useless. The big man filled the doorway. He did not intend to hurt
her, when he firmly grasped her arm, but he did intend to give her a
lesson, and he proceeded to do it, walking her along the hall on the
way to the stairway.

Usually, Gwen's boldness was equal to any emergency, but this time she
was too frightened to object, to wriggle in the firm grasp, or indeed,
to do anything other than allow him to take her wherever he chose, and
he chose----the piazza filled with guests.

Mrs. Harcourt, at the farthest end of the piazza, busy with her
embroidery, did not look up when the two appeared.

"I found _this_ in my room!" said the angry man. "Anyone who owns it
may claim it. _This_ is what has been entering rooms, and handling
other people's property."

"Oh, mamma! Why don't you come and tell them I don't do such things!"

Of course Mrs. Harcourt dropped her embroidering frame, and rushed
forward, snatching Gwen from the big man's grasp.

"'Twould be useless, because I caught her just as she had opened my
trunk, and was examining all my belongings. The best thing to do with
your smart girl, is to keep her away from hotels, unless you can keep
a chain on her to keep her from prowling," growled Mr. Buffington.

"You don't understand children!" declared Mrs. Harcourt, as with Gwen,
she went up the stairway to her room, to which the big man responded:
"I shouldn't want to if they're all like that!"

Of course the piazza was alive with buzzing voices.

"What a perfectly horrid child!"

"I'd be ashamed of her if she were mine, the little imp!