The Fugitive Soldier THE Cottage door closed behind the three excited parents and Aunty Jane. The four Cottagers, all decidedly pale and subdued, looked at one another in silence. It is one thing to confess a fault; it is quite another to be ignominiously found out. Jean and Bettie and Marjory were feeling this very keenly; but Mabel was far more troubled at the prospect of losing Rosa Marie. "The orphan asylum!" breathed Bettie, at length. "It's wicked," blazed Mabel, "to make an orphan of a person that isn't." "I've heard," said Marjory, reflectively, "that orphans have to eat fried liver." "Horrors!" gasped Mabel. "And codfish." "Oh _horrors_!" moaned Mabel, who detested both liver and codfish. "And prunes," pursued teasing Marjory, wickedly remembering Mabel's dislike for that wholesome but insipid fruit. The prunes proved entirely too much for Mabel. "Pup--pup--prunes!" she sobbed. "And you stand there and don't do a thing to save her! I guess if I were Eliza escaping with my baby on cakes of ice----" "Rosa Marie's about the right color," giggled Marjory, who could not resist so fine an opportunity to tease excitable Mabel. "You'd all be glad enough to help, but when it's just me----" "Oh, we'll help," soothed Jean, slipping an arm about Mabel. "You know we always do stand by you." "Yes, we'll all help," promised Bettie, "if you'll just tell us what to do. Only _please_ don't get us into any more trouble with our mothers." "There's the cellar," suggested Mabel, doubtfully, yet with glimmerings of hope. "I read a story once about a lady who sat on a cellar door, knitting stockings." "Why in the world," demanded Marjory, "did she sit on the door?" "Some soldiers were hunting for an escaped prisoner and she had him hidden there." "Was the cellar all horrid with old papers and rats and mice and spiders and crawly things with legs?" asked Bettie, with interest. "I hope not," shuddered Mabel, "but a soldier wouldn't mind. Dear me, I wish we'd cleaned that cellar when we first came into the Cottage. If we had, it'd be just the place to hide Rosa Marie in." "Perhaps it isn't too late, now," said Marjory, stooping to loosen the ring in the kitchen floor. "Let's look down there, anyway." "Let's," agreed Bettie. "It'll be something to do, at least." Everybody helped with the door. When it was open and propped against the kitchen stove, the four girls crouched down to peer into the depths below. Even Rosa Marie, who had been released from the table-leg, crept to the edge to look. They were not very deep depths. The place was filled with rubbish, mostly old papers and broken pasteboard boxes; but it was perfectly dry, and clean except for a thick layer of dust. "Let's clean it out," said Mabel, recklessly grasping an armful of dusty papers and dragging them forth. "Phew!" exclaimed Jean, tumbling back from the hole. "Er--er--er hash!" "Oh, ki--_hash_! Hoo!" blubbered Bettie, likewise tumbling backwards.