In vain she looked into the backseat and turned on her lights to search for her former attendants, but they were nowhere to be seen. In quite a dignified, lofty tone she called their names: “Mr. Emberly! Mr. Creeber! Where are you?” But repeated calls, varying from annoyance to actual anger, and then even fury, brought no response. Once she thought she heard a cracking sound from over behind the kitchen of the cottage, and a floundering stir in the darkness, but when she took her flashlight from her car and started over that way to investigate, she found nothing but a mass of disordered stones and bricks powdered with dirty snow, with sticks and branches in confusion. No sign of the two young men in their shiny dinner coats and rather shabby overcoats anywhere. And finally, in disdain, she picked her way over the roughness back toward her car. Stepping uncertainly, suddenly she felt one foot go down through the mass of branches into a deep place, so that she fell full length. She was about to cry out for help, till suddenly she remembered the merry eyes of that other girl.
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