upon the desk she sobbed aloud. But the
time was long, and the day was warm, and the sobs grew slower, and the
breath began to come in long-drawn, quivering sighs, and the next Emmy
Lou knew she was sitting upright, trembling in every limb, and someone
coming up the stairs--she could hear the slow, heavy footfalls, and a
moment after she saw The Man--the Recess Man, the low, black-bearded,
black-browed, scowling Man--with the broom across his shoulder, reach
the hallway, and make toward the open doorway of the First-Reader room.
Emmy Lou held her breath, stiffened her little body, and--waited. But
The Man pausing to light his pipe, Emmy Lou, in the sudden respite thus
afforded, slid in a trembling heap beneath the desk, and on hands and
knees went crawling across the floor. And as Uncle Michael came in, a
moment after, broom, pan, and feather-duster in hand, the last
fluttering edge of a little pink dress was disappearing into the depths
of the big, empty coal-box, and its sloping lid was lowering upon a
flaxen head and cowering little figure crouched within. Uncle Michael
having put the room to rights, sweeping and dusting, with many a
rheumatic groan in accompaniment, closed the windows, and going out,
drew the door after him and, as was his custom, locked it.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, at Emmy Lou's home the elders wondered. "You don't know Emmy
Lou," Aunt Cordelia, round, plump, and cheery, insisted to the lady
visitor spending the day; "Emmy Lou never loiters."

Aunt Katie, the prettiest auntie, cut off a thick round of melon as they
arose from the table, and put it in the refrigerator for Emmy Lou. "It
seems a joke," she remarked, "such a baby as Emmy Lou going to school
anyhow; but then she has only a square to go and come."

But Emmy Lou did not come. And by half-past two Aunt Louise, the
youngest auntie, started out to find her. But as she stopped on the way
at the houses of all the neighbors to inquire, and ran around the corner
to Cousin Tom Macklin's to see if Emmy Lou could be there, and then,
being but a few doors off, went on around that corner to Cousin
Amanda's, the school-house, when she finally reached it, was locked up,
with the blinds down at every front window as if it had closed its eyes
and gone to sleep. Uncle Michael had a way of cleaning and locking the
front of the building first, and going in and out at the back doors. But
Aunt Louise did not know this