They awoke almost before the night had drained away from the sleeping house and tiptoed through the hall in their stocking feet. When they got outside, the garden was very still and drenched in dew, and, as they walked, their shoes left black smudges in the pearly grass. They spoke in whispers because it seemed as if the world, except the birds, were still asleep.

Suddenly, Paul stood still, staring down the slope of the lawn towards the darkness of the cedars. "What's that?" They all stopped and they all stared.

"It moved," Paul told them. "Come on, let's see." Carey sped ahead on her long legs. "It's a person," she called back, and then her step grew slower. She waited until they caught up with her. "It's-" her voice was hushed with surprise-"it's Miss Price!" And so it was, sitting there on the wet ground under the cedar. Her gray coat and skirt were torn and crumpled, and her hair hung down in wisps.

"Oh, poor Miss Price," cried Carey, running up, "what-ever's the matter? Have you hurt yourself?" Miss Price looked back with frightened eyes, and then she looked away.

"It's my ankle," she muttered.

Carey fell on her knees in the damp grass. Miss Price's ankle was indeed the strangest shape. "Oh, poor Miss Price," cried Carey again, and the tears came to her eyes. "It must hurt terribly." "It does," said Miss Price.

"Run to the house, Charles," ordered Carey, "and tell them to ring up the doctor." Then a strange look came over Miss Price's face, and her eyes opened wide as if with fright. "No, no," she stammered, gripping Carey's arm. "No, not that, just help me to get home." The children looked at her, but they were not surprised. It did not even occur to them to wonder what Miss Price might be doing so early in the morning in their aunt's garden.



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