There were great rents down the front seams of Jane's waist!

The nurse guessed what had happened, and clutched desperately at the gaping seams with both fat hands--now in front, now at the sides, striving to hold the rips together.

To no avail! All the laughter was gone out of her. Quickly she collapsed, her sateen hanging in loose, ragged strips. Once more she was just ordinary nurse-maid size.

"Oh, will she die?" asked Gwendolyn, anxiously.

The Doctor knelt to grasp Jane's wrist. "No," he answered gravely; "she'll only have to go back to the Employment Agency."

"I won't!" cried Jane. "_I_ won't!--Miss Royle!"

"_Hiss-ss-ss!_"

"Get you-know-what out of the way! A certain person musn't talk to it!

If she does she'll find--"

"I understand!" hissed back the snake.

_You-know-what?_ Gwendolyn was troubled.

Now the Policeman and the Piper, assisted by Puffy, picked the nurse up and packed her into the linen-hamper. Whereupon the little old gentleman slapped down the cover and tied a large tag to it. On the tag was written--_Employment Agency, Down-Town!_"

"I'm done with _her_" said Gwendolyn; "--if she _is_ a perfectly good top."

"You're rid of me," answered Jane, calling through the weave of the hamper "_Yes!_ But how about _Miss Royle?_"

"We'll send her back too," declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "Here!

Where _are_ you?" He ran about, searching.

The others searched also--through the grass, behind the granite shift, everywhere. Concern sobered each face.

For the snake-in-the-grass was gone!

CHAPTER XIV

Why had Miss Royle, sly reptile that she was, scuttled away without so much as a good-by?

"Oh, dear!" sighed Gwendolyn; "just as soon as one trouble's finished, another one starts!"

"We must get on her track!" declared the Policeman, patroling to and fro anxiously.

"And let's hurry," urged the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "It's coming night in the City. And all these lights'll be needed soon."

Very soon, indeed. For even as he spoke it happened--with a sharp click.

Instantly the pink glow was blotted out. As suddenly thick blackness shut down.

Except straight ahead! There Gwendolyn made out an oblong patch of sky in which were a few dim stars.

"Never mind," went on the little old gentleman, soothingly. "Because we're close to the place where there's light all the time."

"_All_ the time?" repeated Gwendolyn, surprised.

"It's where light grows."

"_Grows?_"

"Well, it's where _candle_-light grows."

"Candle-light!" she cried. "You mean--! Oh, it's where my fath-er comes!"

"Sometimes."

"Will he be there now?"

"Only the Bird can tell us that."

Then she understood Jane's last gasping admonition--"Get you-know-what out of the way! A certain person mustn't talk to it! If she does she'll find--"

It was the Doctor's hand that steadied her as she hurried forward in the darkness. It was a big hand, and she was able to grasp only two fingers of it. But that clinging hold made her feel that their friendship was established. She was not at all surprised at her complete change of attitude toward him. It seemed to her now as if he and she had always been on good terms.

The others were near. She could hear the _tinkle-tankle_ of the Piper's pipes, the scuff of Puffy's paws, the labored breathing of the little old gentleman as he trudged, the heavy tramp, tramp of the Policeman.

She made her bare feet travel as fast as she could, and kept her look steadily ahead on the dim stars.

And saw, moving from one to another of them, in quick darts--now up, now down--a small Something. She did not instantly guess what it was--flitting across that half-darkened sky. Until she heard the wild beating of tiny pinions!

"Why, it's a bird!" she exclaimed.

"A bird?" repeated the Policeman, all eagerness.

"Must be _the_ Bird!" declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, triumphantly.

It was. Even in the poor light her eager eyes made out the bumps on that small feathered head. And saw that on the down-drooping tail, nicely balanced, and gleaming whitely, was a lump.

Remembering what she had heard about that bit of salt, she ran forward.

At her approach, his wings half-lifted. And as she reached out to him, pointing a small finger, he sprang sidewise, alighting upon it.

"Oh, I'm glad you've come!" he panted.

He was no larger than a canary; and seemed to be brown--a sparrow-brown.

Prejudiced against him she had been. He had tattled about her--_worse_, about her father. Yet seeing him now, so tiny and ruffled and frightened, she liked him.

She brought him to a level with her eyes. "What's the matter?" she asked soothingly.

"I'm afraid." He thrust out his head, pointing. "_Look_."