IN THE STOREROOM Carrying an oil lamp, Mary Mason entered the storeroom, and with only a casual glance about went directly to the window. As she passed the packing box, Nancy held her breath, fearful lest she be discovered. “I don’t remember leaving a window open,” the girl muttered to herself. “Why, the floor is sopping wet.” Hearing the words, Nancy was assailed with a new fear. Undoubtedly, in moving about the storeroom her clothes had dripped water, leaving a trail wherever she had gone. If Mary were at all obs…
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