Daringly Doris peeped out through a crack to see who it was. To her surprise she beheld Azalea Gates. Bible in hand, the old lady entered the living room, crossed directly to the bedroom and without a glance in the direction of the closet went in and closed the door behind her. The girls waited a few minutes to make certain that she would not return. When they heard a droning voice begin one of the Psalms, they knew they were safe. “Now is our chance,” Doris whispered. They slipped quietly out of the closet, and stole to the door. The stairs creaked alarmingly as they went down and they were afraid they would be heard. To their relief they reached the second floor in safety. Somewhat guiltily they rushed down the hall and entered their own bedroom. There they snatched up Wags who had grown impatient waiting for them, and fled from the house. It was a relief to reach the warm sunshine, for the sight they had just witnessed had thrown a pall over them. “Wasn’t it awful, Dory, to see a helpless cripple like that? I wonder if a doctor ever comes here,” mused Kitty sadly, “to give the poor thing relief.” “We might have gone up before if the twins had only told us we could and tried to entertain the child,” suggested Doris generously. “Perhaps my singing might have eased her pain for a while, at least.” “You are a dear, Dory, always wanting to cheer up everybody with your lovely voice. But why,” Kitty continued thoughtfully, “do you suppose this is kept a secret? We cannot help if the Misses Gates do not wish us to intrude on their private affairs. They may think we are dreadfully bold and presumptuous.” “We probably shouldn’t have gone up there,” Doris declared. “But how did we know who was there?” Kitty returned. “We didn’t know but that some one was in trouble. When we started out, we thought we were after a ghost.” “I feel as though I had seen one now,” Doris said with a nervous laugh. “I do hope we don’t discover any more weird things about this place. “My! but this bright sunlight feels good and warms one up after that musty, drab third floor, with its queer noises and moanings coming from the most unexpected places. What would Mrs. Marshall say to this clutter of old furniture and bedding? I’ll bet she wouldn’t care to keep house for the Misses Gates,” and Doris laughed as she adjusted her beret over her reddish-brown curls. “I’m glad I’m only a visitor here,” said Kitty, “and not a life inmate.” She chuckled at the thought. Down the steps came the two girls. They glanced back to see who might be listening to this conversation between them. They did not wish to be overheard by any one within the rambling old structure. CHAPTER XIX UNDER THE WINDOW