"She's layin' down on the floor in the kitchen. Come on, I've got a
match. I'll light the gas in the front room."

If Helen had obeyed a strong impulse that was tugging within her to
hold her back, she would have refused to enter. Perhaps the reason she
did not obey that impulse was the fact that a desperate effort to
think of another reasonable method of procedure was fruitless and she
must either go ahead as she had started or turn away in confusion and
leave the little girl in her distress and without an explanation. The
latter opened the door and Helen followed her inside.

It was difficult for the visiting Camp Fire girl to figure out any
reason why she should be fearful of anything this slip of a child
might do, and yet the first act of the latter after they were inside
sent through her a chill of terror. Slipping around her like an eel,
the little emissary of trouble pushed the door to and turned the key
in the lock. Helen was certain also that she heard the key withdrawn
from the lock.

Still her conductress, clever little confidence girl that she was,
spoke words of reassurance that dispelled some of her victim's fears.

"Wait," she said; "I dropped my match. I'll have to go in the kitchen
for another."

Helen's eyes followed the dim form of the child, as the latter moved
across the room, and observed for the first time a line of light under
what appeared to be a door between the front room and the kitchen. A
moment later the door swung open, and she was considerably relieved