Esther was only eleven, and as she sat on the floor and stared at Betty from great wet blue eyes, she seemed very young indeed.

“Eloped!” gasped Betty.  “Why, I never heard of such a thing!”

“She’s always talking about it,” the younger girl wailed, beginning to cry again.  “She says it’s the most romantic way to be married, and she means to throw her hope chest out of the window first and slide down a rope made of bedsheets.”

“Well, I think it’s very silly to talk like that,” scolded Betty.  “And, what’s more, Esther, however much Libbie may talk of eloping, she hasn’t done it this time.  All her clothes are here, and her shoes and her hat.  Here’s her purse on the dresser, too.”

“I never thought of looking to see if her clothes were here,” confessed Esther.  “But then, where is she, Betty?”

“That’s what I mean to find out,” announced Betty, with more confidence than she felt.  “Come on, Esther.  And don’t trip on your kimono or walk into anything.”

They tiptoed out into the wide hall and had reached the head of the beautiful carved staircase when they saw a dim form coming toward them.

Esther nearly shrieked aloud, but Betty put a hand over her mouth in time.

“Who—­who, who-o-o are you?” stammered Betty, her heart beating so fast it was painful.

“Betty!” Bob stifled a gasp.  “For the love of Mike! what are you doing at this time of night?”

“Esther’s here—­we’re hunting for Libbie,” whispered Betty.  “She isn’t in her room.”

“So that’s it!” For some reason unknown to the girls Bob seemed to be vastly relieved.  “I was just going after Mr. Littell,” he added.

“But Libbie is lost!  Maybe she is sick,” urged Betty.

“She’s all right,” declared Bob confidently.  “You see, I couldn’t go to sleep, and after I’d been in bed about an hour I got up and sat by the window.  I was staring down into the garden, and all of a sudden I saw something white begin to move and creep about.  I watched it a few moments and I got the idea it was a burglar or a sneak thief, it kept so close to the house.  I came down to call Mr. Littell and bumped into you.”

“Do you suppose it is Libbie?” chattered Esther.  “Why would she go into the garden in the middle of the night?”

“Walking in her sleep,” explained Bob.  “I’ve heard it is dangerous to waken a sleep-walker suddenly.  Perhaps you’d better call Mrs. Littell, Betty, and I’ll sit here on the window seat and see that she doesn’t walk out into the road.”

The two girls hurried off and tapped lightly on Mrs. Littell’s door.  That lady hurriedly admitted them, her motherly mind instantly picturing something wrong.

“It’s Libbie,” said Betty softly.  “Bob saw her from his window in the garden and he thinks she’s walking in her sleep.  We don’t want to frighten her.  What can we do?”

“I’ll be right out,” said Mrs. Littell reassuringly.  “Libbie’s mother used to walk in her sleep, too.  I think I can get the child into bed without waking her at all.”