Farnsworth looked at her.  “Daisy,” he said, sternly, “if you’ve really sprained your ankle, we’ll have to get back into the car—­ for I can’t carry you.  But if you can walk, I advise you to do so.”

Daisy looked a little frightened at his severe tone.

“Oh, I suppose I can walk,” she said, “though it hurts me dreadfully.  Hold me up, Bill.”

“I’ll hold you,” he replied, cheerily.  “Now we’ll take this lantern, and we’ll walk ahead.  Pennington, you follow with Miss Fairfield.  Don’t talk much, you’ll need all your strength to walk through the storm.  It’s abating a little, but it’s raining cats and dogs yet.”

Unconsciously, Bill had assumed command of the expedition, and involuntarily, the others obeyed him.  That mile was a dreadful walk!  At first, it seemed fairly easy, for the road was a good one, though wet and slippery.  But soon the satin slippers were soaked; stones and bits of gravel made their way inside, and at last Patty found it almost impossible to keep hers on at all.  Jack tried to help, by tying the little slippers on with his own and Patty’s handkerchiefs, but these soon gave way.  The rain fell steadily now; not in dashes and sheets, but a moderate downpour that seemed as if it meant to go on forever.

Jack could do little to help, save to grasp Patty’s arm tightly and “boost” her along.  Daisy stood it better, for she was of far stronger build than fragile Patty, and Big Bill almost carried her along with his own long, sturdy strides.

After what seemed an interminable walk, they reached the house in question.  It was a large, fine-looking structure, but as no lights were visible, the family had evidently retired.

“I should think they’d leave a night light in the hall,” grumbled Daisy, as the quartette climbed the veranda steps and stood, dripping, at the front door.

“Whew!” exclaimed Jack.  “It’s good to get where that rain doesn’t drive straight into your eyes, anyway!  Ring the bell, Farnsworth.”

“Can’t find it.  Ah, here it is!” and Bill pushed the electric button, and held it, ringing a continuous peal.

But no one came to the door, and the shivering four grew impatient, to think that shelter was so near, yet unavailable.

“You keep punching this bell, Pennington,” suggested Bill, “and I’ll reconnoitre round to the other entrances.  There must be side doors and things.”

Jack kept the bell going, but no one responded, and no lights showed in the house.  At last Bill returned from his tour of exploration.

“I’ve been all the way round,” he said; “there are three or four entrances to this mansion, and all have bells, but nobody answered my various and insistent ringings.  What shall us do now, poor things?”

“I suppose they’re afraid we’re burglars,” observed Patty; “and they’re afraid to let us in.”

“If they don’t come pretty soon, I will be a burglar,” declared Bill, “and I’ll get in in burglar fashion.  It isn’t fair for people to have a warm, dry house, and keep forlorn wet people out of it.  We’ve got to get in!  Let’s bang on the doors.”