Their work finished, they were anxious to start for home at once and begin a search for the bottles, but Stella begged them to stay a little longer until she should have finished the design she was making.

So Midge and Molly wandered out on the veranda, and amused themselves by jerking the rope ladder up and down.  By a clever mechanical contrivance the ladder went up and down something on the principle of an automatic shade roller.  It was great fun to roll it up and feel a certain security in the thought that nobody could get into “Breezy Inn” unless they saw fit to let down the ladder.  Not that anybody ever wanted to, but it was fun to think so, and, moreover, the rolling ladder was most useful in the playing of certain games, where an unlucky princess was imprisoned in a castle tower.

But somehow, as they were idly jerking the ladder up and down, an accident happened.  Something snapped at the top, and with a little cracking sound, the whole ladder broke loose from its fastenings and fell to the ground.

“Oh, Midget!” cried Molly, aghast, “whatever shall we do now?  We can’t get down, and we’ll have to stay here until somebody happens to come by this way.”

“That may not be for several days,” said Midget, cheerfully.  “Carter never hardly comes down into this meadow.  Pooh, Molly, we can get down some way.”

“Yes; but how?” insisted Molly, who realized the situation more truly than Marjorie.

“Oh, I don’t know,” responded Midge, carelessly.  “We might go down in the dumb-waiter.”

“No; your uncle said, positively, we must never go down on that.  It isn’t strong enough to hold even one of us at a time.”

“I guess I could jump.”

“I guess you couldn’t!  You’d sprain your ankles and break your collar bones.”

“Oh, pshaw, Molly, there must be some way down.  Let’s ask Stella.  She can always think of something.”

“No; don’t tell Stella.  She can’t think of any way, and it would scare her to pieces.  I tell you, Mops, there isn’t any way down.  It’s too high to jump and we can’t climb.  We could climb up the tree, but not down.”

At last Marjorie began to realize that they were in a difficulty.  She looked all around the house, and there really was no way by which the girls could get down.  They went into the living-room, where Stella sat at the table, drawing.

“I’m ready to go home,” she said, looking up as they entered.  “This is finished, and, anyway, it’s getting so dark I can’t see any more.”

“Dark!” exclaimed Marjorie.  “Why, it isn’t five o’clock yet.”

“I don’t care what time it is,” said Stella; “it’s getting awfully dark, just the same.”

And sure enough it was, and a few glances at the sky showed the reason.  What was undoubtedly a severe thunderstorm was rapidly approaching, and dark masses of cloud began to roll over each other and pile up higher and higher toward the zenith.