protecting her against the night air.

"Esther, lamb, you stay here in the hall with Bob," she directed her
youngest daughter. "You won't be afraid with Bob, will you, dear? I don't
want too many to go down or we may startle Libbie."

Betty crept downstairs after Mrs. Littell, the soft, thick rugs making
their progress absolutely noiseless. Not a step in the well-built
staircase creaked.

They found the chain and bolt drawn from the heavy front door. Libbie had
evidently let herself out with no difficulty. From the wide hall window
Bob and Esther watched breathlessly.

"Just go up to her quietly and take one of her hands," Mrs. Littell
whispered to Betty. "I'll take the other, and, if I'm not mistaken, we
can lead her into the house."

Libbie stood motionless beside a rosebush as they approached her. Her
eyes were wide open, and her dark hair floated over her shoulders. In her
white nightdress, the moonlight full upon her, she looked very pretty and
yet so weird that Betty could not repress a shiver.

Mrs. Littell did not speak, but took one of the limp hands in hers, and
Betty took the other. Libbie made no resistance, and allowed them to
draw her toward the house. They crossed the threshold, led her upstairs,
past the quivering Esther and Bob huddled on the windowseat, and into the
bedroom she had so unceremoniously left.

Then Mrs. Littell lifted her in strong arms, put her gently down on the