Marjorie additional time, and she made the most of it. Her entire lung
power spent itself in successive shrieks more than a dozen times, before
she was finally dragged away from the window by the infuriated gypsy
women.

Marjorie turned upon them, unafraid.

"I told you I wouldn't try to run away," she said, "and neither I didn't.
But I had a right to yell, and if anybody heard me, I hope he'll come
right straight here! You are bad, wicked women!"

The child's righteous indignation had its effect on the women, and they
hesitated, not knowing exactly what to do with this little termagant.

And strange to say, Marjorie's ruse had succeeded.

For when the Maynards reached Pelton, and had found the inn where they
were to lunch, Pompton, the chauffeur, had expressed himself as unwilling
to sit there quietly and await the arrival of King and Marjorie.

"The poor children will be done out," he said to Mr. Maynard, "and by
your leave, sir, I'll just take the car, and run back a few rods and pick
them up."

"That's good of you, Pompton," said Mr. Maynard, appreciatively. "They
can't be far away now, but they'll be glad of a lift."

So Pompton turned the car about, and started back along the road he had
just come. To his surprise, he did not meet the children as soon as he
had expected, and as he continued his route without seeing them, he began