There was no plug in the can and the kerosene flowed out
upon the terror-stricken child, wetting her shoes and stockings, and
made a great puddle on the stone floor. She stood in the darkness,
seeing none of this, which made the catastrophe the more terrible.
And then, as she stood in terror, wet and bewildered, waiting for
whatever terrible sequel might come, she felt again that something
soft and wet and silent on her hand. She moved her hand a little and
felt of something soft. Soft in a different way. Soft but not wet.
"Wiggle," she sobbed in a whisper; "why--why--didn't you--you--tell me
it was you--Wiggle?"
But he only licked her hand again as if to say, "If there is anything
on for to-night, I'm with you. Cheer up. Adventures are my middle
name". ...
CHAPTER XXVI
PEPSY'S INVESTMENT
For a few seconds Pepsy stood in suspense amid the spreading,
dripping havoc she had caused, listening for some sound above. But
the seconds piled up into a full minute and no approaching step was
heard. The danger seemed over.
But the very air was redolent of kerosene; she stood in a puddle
of it, and one of her stockings and both of her plain little buttoned
shoes were thoroughly wet.
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