“Just as you like,” said Dolly. “I am not tired at all. In fact, if it weren’t for getting up in the morning, I should feel inclined to sit up and see what happens.” “But what can happen?” questioned Frances quickly. Dolly laughed briefly. “Well, he can find himself locked out for the night, that’s all—unless Arthur sits up for him. But I should hardly think he’ll do that. He has got to be up early himself.” “What will he do if he is locked out?” asked Frances. “Probably one of the girls—Maggie—would let him in if the coast were clear. If not, he would have to sleep out somewhere. That wouldn’t kill him,” said Dolly cheerfully. “Well, if you are sure you can manage all right—Have you had a good day?” “Quite, thank you,” said Frances. “Good night! I am feeling much stronger than I was and quite able to put myself to bed.” “That’s all right,” said Dolly. “It’s much pleasanter to do for oneself, isn’t it?” She went, and Frances was once more alone. She blew out the candle that Dolly had lighted and settled down again to wait. Dolly’s news was disquieting. She had hoped that all the household would have been wrapped in slumber before the time arrived for her own expedition, but it seemed that this was not to be. She wondered how she would manage to elude observation. She hated the thought of creeping out by stealth, but there seemed to be no help for it. Time was getting short, and if Arthur proposed to sit up for the defaulter she would have no choice but to risk it. Slowly the harvest moon mounted in the sky. The boughs of the cedar-tree stood out black against the radiance. She rose at last and wrapped her shawl about her. The night was warm, and she would not be long. She had not heard Arthur pass her door, so she concluded that he was still in the kitchen. She had thought the whole matter out and decided upon her plan of action. There was a casement window in the parlour, easily opened and near the ground. She would not need to pass the kitchen to reach this room, and only the window of the old man’s study overlooked that corner of the garden. She felt sure that he would have retired long since, and even if he had not, he was the last person in the world to act the spy. She smiled to herself as cautiously she opened her door. A certain spirit of adventure had entered into her; her brain was cool, her nerves steady. She was even conscious of a mischievous feeling of elation. It seemed so long since she had taken any step on her own initiative. She realized that the general sense of bondage had begun to oppress her also.