There was a short silence. Then Dulcie closed the dictionary with a bang, and in another moment the light was out, and she had crept into bed beside Daisy. The two younger children were already asleep. “Was it that word Paul said, you were looking for in the dictionary?” Daisy whispered, as her sister nestled down beside her, and slipped an arm round her neck. “Yes,” said Dulcie, shortly. “And did you find it, and was it something very horrid?” “It was rather horrid, but not as bad as I was afraid it might be. It means about the same thing as being a burden. Miss Polly was afraid of being a burden to her brother, you know, but it isn’t anything we can help, so there isn’t any use in talking about it. I hate to talk about disagreeable things just before I go to sleep. I’ll tell you about that last Christmas in Danby, and how Mamma let me help dress the tree.” “All right,” said Daisy, cheerfully. “Do you think we are going to like Paul?” “I think so,” said Dulcie. “I was afraid he was going to be terribly conceited and stuck-up, but he isn’t really. He ought not to repeat things he hears his father and mother say, but perhaps nobody has ever told him not to. Anyhow, I’m glad he hates showing off.” CHAPTER VII THE STOLEN CHILD “It’s stopped snowing, and Grandma says we may go out and play in the Square,” announced Paul, appearing at the nursery door, one afternoon a few days later. “Daisy and Maud can’t go out on account of their colds, but Dulcie and Molly can.” “All right; I’ll come in a minute, just as soon as I finish my letter,” said Dulcie. Molly--who was preparing her lessons for Miss Hammond--threw down her geography, and sprang to her feet. “I love going out in the snow,” she cried, joyfully, “only I wish we had a sled. The Van Arsdale girls, across the way, have one and I saw them hitching on behind a big sleigh, a little while ago, but Grandma says it isn’t lady-like to hitch on to sleighs, and, anyway, we haven’t got a sled.” “We have great times in the Public Gardens at home,” said Paul. “Some boys I know built a snow fort last winter, and we used to have regular battles. Mother wasn’t going to let me play with them at first; she’s always so afraid I’ll take cold, but Father made her, and it was great fun. Hurry up with your old letter, Dulcie. I’m so afraid Mother may change her mind, and say I can’t go out in the dampness. Are you writing to your father?” “No, she isn’t,” said Daisy; “she’s writing to Miss Leslie.” “Who’s Miss Leslie?” “A lovely young lady we know. She lives in California, and we only saw her once, but she asked us to write to her. She and Uncle Stephen took us to ‘The Pirates of Penzance.’” “Is her first name Florence?” Paul inquired. “Why, yes it is. How did you know?” “I heard Grandma and Aunt Kate talking about her, when I was doing my French in Mother’s room, the other day.” “I didn’t know they knew her,” said Daisy, looking very much surprised. “What were they saying about her?”