"Ma'm?" said Agnes.

"In whose house are we?" asked Nyoda.

"This is the home of Simon McClure," answered Agnes.

"Oh-oh!" we said altogether. The name of Simon McClure was a household
word with us. It was his yacht that had sprung a leak and gone down the
summer before just as it was on the point of winning the cup race. We
had all heard about this millionaire sportsman and his horses, dogs and
boats. Well, we were not sorry, after all, that the heat had ended up
in a shower. It was worth a drenching to be taken into such a house.
I'm afraid our anxiety about Gladys faded a little in the enjoyment of
our unique position. The rain had gradually subsided from a cloudburst
into a steady downpour and we trembled to think what the road would be
like. In our mind's eye we saw ourselves stuck up to the hubs in yellow
clay from which it would require the pulling power of a locomotive to
release us.

I suppose Carrie must have told her mistress of our presence, for after
one of her absences from the room she said that Mrs. McClure had said
we were welcome to stay all night if we wished. We looked at each other
with rather comical expressions. To our widely varying list of night's
lodgings there was about to be added one more, as different from the
rest as they had been from each other. One more adventure was to be
added to our already long list! But even then we did not guess that
this one was to surpass all the others as the glare of a rocket
outshines the glimmer of a match!

Carrie returned again presently and after looking at Agnes steadily for