The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. ” “You didn’t.
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