nds of things at the back of the bed," said the
practical Connie, who had seen several similar arrangements in the
houses of the poor.

This room, however, although ugly and dark--very dark--seemed to be
suspiciously bare. The children had turned on the gas--for evening had
already arrived--and they could see with great distinctness.

Mammy Warren owned the upper part of this tenement-house, and no one
ever came up the creaking stairs except to visit her. The children
therefore knew that if there was a footstep they would be in danger.
Connie, however, assured Ronald that she could put out the light and be
innocently seated by the fire if Mammy Warren did arrive unexpectedly.

All was silence, however, on the creaking stairs, and they were able to
resume their search. The chest of drawers stood with all its drawers
open and each one of them empty. No sort of tool could the children
find. The yellow and black silk dress had disappeared, but the
disreputable old beggar's clothes hung on the peg behind the door. There
was also a very ancient bonnet, which was hung by its strings over the
dress. Otherwise there was not a scrap of anything whatever in the room
except the press bedstead, which the children could not possibly open,
and the empty chest of drawers.

"But here," said Connie, "is a door. P'rhaps it's a cupboard door."

"Let's try if it will open," said Ronald.

He turned the handle. The door shot back with a spring, and the boy's
face turned pale.

"The dark closet!" said Connie. "The dark, dark room without a winder!"

Ronald caught hold of Connie's hand and squeezed it tightly. After a
minute he said in a husky voice:

"Come away."

Connie shut the mysterious closet door. The children turned out the gas
in Mammy Warren's bedroom, and went back to the sitting-room. Here they
crouched down, pale and trembling, before the fire.

"Don't, Ronnie--don't," said Connie.

"Hold me very tight, Connie," said the little boy.

She did so, pressing him to her heart and kissing his little face. After
a minute tears came to his eyes, and he said in a sturdy tone:

"Now I am better. It was wrong of me to be so frightened."

"Hark--there's the Woice!" said Connie.

They sat very still while Big Ben proclaimed the hour of nine.

"What does he say?" asked Ronald, turning round and looking at Connie.

"I know," said Connie, a light on her pretty face. "Father John preached
on it once. I know wot Big Ben's a-sayi