the futile rattling of the iron knob. And then the sound of a voice murmuring:

"Oh, dear! What shall I do? I can't get this open!"

"Janet," whispered Marcia, "that's not the voice of Miss Benedict! I know it! I believe[Pg 35] it's Cinderella, and she's trying to run away! What shall we do—stay here?"

[Pg 35]

"No," Janet whispered back. "Let's just stroll on a little way, and then turn back. We can see what happens then without seeming to be watching."

They walked on quickly for a number of yards, and then turned to approach the gate again. Even as they did so they saw it open, and out stepped a little figure.

It was not Miss Benedict! The slim, trim little girlish form was clad in plain dark clothes of a slightly unfamiliar cut. But the face was the one that had appeared in the upper window, and the thick golden curls were surmounted by a black velvet tam-o'-shanter. On her arm she carried a small market-basket, and her eyes had a bewildered, almost frightened, look.

In their excited interest Marcia and Janet had, quite unconsciously, stopped short where they were and waited to see which way their Cinderella would turn. But though they stood so for an appreciable moment, she turned[Pg 36] neither way, and only stood, her back to the gate, gazing uncertainly to the right and left. And then, perceiving them, she seemed to take a sudden resolution, and turned to them appealingly.

[Pg 36]

"Oh, please, could you direct me how to find this?" she asked, holding out a slip of paper. Marcia hurried to her side and read the written address. And when she had read it, she realized that it was the little grocery-shop on the other side of town where she had once encountered Miss Benedict.

"Why, certainly!" she cried. "You walk over five blocks in that direction, then turn to your left and down three. You can't miss it; it's right next to a shoemaker's place."

The child looked more bewildered than ever, and her eyes strayed to the busy street-crossing near which they stood, crowded with hurrying trucks and automobiles.

"Thank you!" she faltered. "Do I go this way?" And then, with sudden candor, "You see, I'm strange in these streets." Her voice was clear and pretty, but her accent markedly[Pg 37] 

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