“Maybe it would have been different if she’d really been stolen,” said Dulcie. “I began to be afraid she wasn’t the minute she said that about not liking to be clean. We oughtn’t to have gone home with her, and it was mostly my fault, because I’m the oldest, but it was so exciting, and I really thought we might be able to help her. Take my handkerchief, Paul, yours is soaking.” “I say,” observed Paul, accepting the proffered handkerchief, “couldn’t we go in the basement way? I don’t want Mother to see me looking like this.” “We might,” Dulcie admitted. “Bridget’s pretty good-natured, but there’s your eye. Your mother will have to see that. And there’s my hat, too. Grandma will make an awful fuss about it. I really think the best way will be to go right up-stairs and tell the whole truth. Papa says it’s always best to tell the truth and take the consequences.” Paul made no further suggestions, although the face behind Dulcie’s handkerchief was very grave and troubled. He was a tender-hearted boy, and really loved his mother dearly. The thought of the horror and distress he was about to cause her was anything but pleasant. As they neared home, they were uncomfortably aware of the fact that people were casting surprised or amused glances at them, but fortunately they did not meet any one they knew. At the foot of Mrs. Winslow’s front steps they all paused. “You go in first, Molly,” said Dulcie. “You’re the only one who looks all right. Tell Mary not to scream when she sees Paul. It might frighten Aunt Julia, and I think we’d better break it to her gently.” Accordingly, Molly mounted the steps and rang the bell, while the other two lingered behind on the sidewalk. There was a moment of anxious waiting, and then the front door opened, and on the threshold stood--not Mary but Grandma herself. Molly gave a great gasp, and sank against the wall. “Where--where is Mary?” she faltered, with shaking lips. “Gone to the dentist’s. Where are the others?” Molly did not answer; words were beyond her at that awful moment, but Mrs. Winslow did not have to repeat her question, for two forlorn, bedraggled little figures were already half-way up the steps. At the sight of them, Grandma started back, with a cry of horrified astonishment.