"My head is tipside up; I can't think." Then she began to wonder how long
she could live down there, in case she was not discovered.

"I s'pose I can climb up on the swing shelf, and sleep there nights. I
can hide behind things in the daytime, and when I'm hungry I can eat out
of the jars and boxes."

The sound of voices came down distinctly from the kitchen overhead. Dotty
crouched behind an apple barrel, and listened. Grandma Read was talking
to Mrs. Parlin, who seemed to be in another room.

"Mary, my glasses _are_ gone this time," said she. "If little Alice were
only here, I should set her to hunting."

"She don't know I'm in the house this minute," thought Dotty; "no,
_under_ the house. Dear me!"

With that she walked softly up the stairs, and listened at the
door-latch; for the sound of her grandmother's voice was encouraging, and
Dotty, in her loneliness, longed to be near the dear people of the
family, even if she could not see them.

"Edward," said her mother,--what music there was in her voice!--"if you
are going after that dear child, you'd better take a shawl to wrap her
in, for it is snowing fast. And be sure to tell her we love her dearly,
every one of us, and don't believe she will ever run away again."

"O, was her papa going after her? Did they love her, after all? Were they
willing to keep her in the house?"