By this time Marjorie was thoroughly frightened, though she herself could not have told what she was afraid of. Grasping the precious speller, she started, with but one idea in her mind,--to get downstairs and out of that awful building as quickly as possible. She groped carefully for the newel-post, for going down was more dangerous than coming up, and she feared she might fall headlong. Safely started, however, she almost ran downstairs, and reached the ground floor, only to find the front door had a spring-lock, which had fastened itself when the door banged shut. Marjorie's heart sank within her when she realized that she was locked in the schoolhouse. She thought of the key, but she had stupidly left that on the outside of the door. "But anyway," she thought, "I don't believe you have to have a key on the inside. You don't to our front door at home. You only have to pull back a little brass knob." The thought of home made a lump come into poor Marjorie's throat, and the tears came plentifully as she fumbled vainly about the lock of the door. "Oh, dear," she said to herself, "just s'pose I have to stay here all night. I _won't_ go upstairs again. I'll sit on the steps and wait till morning." But at last something gave way, the latch flew up, and Marjorie swung the big door open, and felt the cool night air on her face once more. It was very dark, but she didn't mind that, now that she was released from her prison, and, after making sure that the door was securely fastened, she put the key safely in her pocket, and started off toward home. The church clock struck eight just as she reached her own door, and she could hardly believe she had made her whole trip in less than an hour. It seemed as if she had spent a whole night alone in the schoolhouse. She rang the bell, and in a moment Sarah opened the door. "Why, Miss Marjorie, wherever have you been?" cried the astonished maid. "I thought you was up in your own room." "I've been out on an errand, Sarah," answered Midge, with great dignity. "An errand, is it? At this time o' night! I'm surprised at ye, Miss Marjorie, cuttin' up tricks just because the folks is away." "Hello, Mopsy!" cried Kingdon, jumping downstairs three at a time. "What have you been up to now, I'd like to know." "Nothing much," said Marjorie, gaily. Her spirits had risen since she found herself once again in her safe, warm, light home. "Don't bother me now, King; I want to study." "Mother'll study you when she knows that you've been out walking alone at night." "I don't want you to tell her, King, because I want to tell her myself." "All right, Midge. I know it's all right, only I think you might tell me." "Well, I will," said Midget, in a sudden burst of confidence. Sarah had left the room, so Marjorie told King all about her adventure. The boy looked at her with mingled admiration and amazement.