“Don’t be afraid,” said Mandoline, rousing herself.  “It is somebody after beer, and mother has locked up the store.”

No, it was Mr. Parlin’s voice which spoke.  Dotty’s swollen heart gave a great bound, and then sank heavier than ever.

“My little daughter Alice has run away.”  That was what he said.  “Is she in your house, Mrs. Rosenberg?”

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Rosenberg, “I expect its likely she is; but she and my Mandoline’s been abed and asleep two hours.”

“O, papa, I’m wide awake!” cried little Dotty, with an eager shriek, which pierced the rafters.

“Good night, then,” said Mr. Parlin, coldly.

“O, but, papa, I want to go home.  What did my mamma say about me?”

“She said she had sent you of an errand.  When you have finished your errand, you may come home.  Good night.”

“O, NOT good night!” screamed Dotty, almost falling down stairs in her haste, and fastening her dress as she ran.  “It was ’cause Lina hid my hat; and that was why—­”

“By the way,” said Mr. Parlin, without paying the slightest attention to his half-frantic little daughter, who was clinging to his knees, and pleading with her whole soul, “Mrs. Rosenberg, I’m sorry to trouble you, but if you will be kind enough to keep this little runaway girl till I send for her, I shall be very much obliged.”

“O, certainly, Mr. Parlin; certainly, sir,” replied the Jewess, smiling very sweetly, and trying to pat Dotty’s head, which was in such violent motion that she only succeeded in touching the end of her nose.  No one who had looked at Mrs. Rosenberg at that moment would have suspected her of being a vixen.  She was sure Mr. Parlin would pay her handsomely if she kept his daughter there for a day or two; and the prospect of a little money always made the poor woman very amiable.

“Thank you, madam,” said Mr. Parlin, gently disengaging himself from Dotty.  “When you are tired of my little daughter, will you please let me know?  Goodnight, Mrs. Rosenberg; good-night, Alice.”

And, before Dotty had time to scream again, he was gone.

For a moment she stood quite still, gazing at the door-latch; then rushed out into the darkness, calling, “Papa, papa!” But Mrs. Rosenberg laid her strong hands upon her, and brought her back.

“So your mother didn’t say you might come?  I thought it was queer.  Hush! hush!  Don’t go into fits, child.  There are no bears in this house, and nothing will hurt you.”

Mrs. Rosenberg’s manner was much kinder than it had been before; and with a child’s quick insight, Dotty perceived that her father’s coming had wrought the change.

“I want to go home!  I want to go home!” cried she, with another passionate outburst.  “O, take me—­do!  They won’t send for me, never!  Take me, and I’ll give you—­O, Mrs. Rosenberg, I’ll give you—­”