What two had been seen out there that night but
Clarice Plume and her Gallic shadow, Elise?
Meantime Aunt Janet was "looking ghastly," said the ladies along that
somber line of quarters, and something really ought to be done. Just
what that something should be no two could unite in deciding, but
really Major Plume or Dr. Graham ought to see that, if something
wasn't done, she would break down under the awful strain. She had
grown ten years older in five days, they declared--was turning
fearfully gray, and they were sure she never slept a wink. Spoken to
on this score, poor Miss Wren was understood to say she not only could
not sleep, but she did not wish to. Had she kept awake and watched
Angela, as was her duty, the child could never have succeeded in her
wild escapade. The "child," by the way, had displayed rare
generalship, as speedily became known. She must have made her few
preparations without a betraying sound, for even Kate Sanders, in the
same room, was never aroused--Kate, who was now well-night
heartbroken. They found that Angela had crept downstairs in her
stockings, and had put on her riding moccasins and leggings at the
kitchen steps. There, in the sand, were the tracks of her long,
slender feet. They found that she had taken with her a roomy
hunting-pouch that hung usually in her father's den.
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