some time; the door, opened at last, revealed Mattie Patello, huddled in various odd garments, a candle in one hand, relieved yet bearing plain evidences of fright and misery.
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" she said. "There isn't a soul in this awful place but me—I've never seen anybody to speak to since the postman and a telegraph boy were here this morning, and I've been all alone in the house since yesterday afternoon. I've been frightened to death"—she broke off short, staring at Wedgwood. "I've seen you here before!" she exclaimed. "You're the man that made a picture———"
"All right, my girl!" interrupted Wedgwood. "Your father and mother know me! Now—is there a fire anywhere?"
"There's a big fire in the kitchen," answered Mattie. "It's never been out since yesterday. I sat up by it all last night, and I was going to sit up by it again—I'm terrified to go to bed. I think I'd have gone mad to-night if you hadn't come—you've no idea what it's been like!"
"Well, we're here now," said Wedgwood. "See to your mother—she must be wet through. Let's get dry and warm and we'll hear all about it. One word, though—you've not seen or heard anything of those three since last night?"
