Tessie had been thrust into the darkened room with such force that she staggered and would have fallen if her hand had not touched the twisted spindles of an old bed. She clutched the footboard and clung to it, trembling and breathless.

"All you have to do is to give up your rights to the Sunshine Islands and the Tear of God," called Mr. Pracht from the hall. "Just pound on the door when you've made up your mind, and I'll let you out."

But Tessie said never a word. She just clutched the twisted spindles harder. When she heard Mr. Pracht turn the key in the lock and go down the stairs, she screamed. The cry was involuntary and quickly smothered by her hand, for Tessie remembered that the Gilfoolys were afraid of nothing. Granny had said so. But Tessie was quiveringly afraid that Granny was wrong, for Tessie could have put her finger on a Gilfooly who was afraid—shiveringly afraid—of the darkened room and of white-headed Frederic Pracht, who was on the other side of the door.

What would he do to her if she refused to give up her islands and the Tear of God? Of course she would refuse, for in her veins was that warm quick blood of the Gilfoolys, which had kept her Uncle Pete on the throne of the Sunshine Islands for almost twenty years. No matter what Mr. Pracht and the Sons of Sunshine did to her, Tessie vowed she would not give up her islands nor the Tear of God. They were hers and a Gilfooly kept what was his.

But it was a fearsome task to be a queen and a Gilfooly, as she stood there in the darkened room. Her lip quivered, and her breath came in quick sobbing gasps. What a fool she had been to allow the Sons of Sunshine to kidnap her! She knew better than to get in cars driven by strange chauffeurs. But the car she had entered had been the Kingley car! She never would have taken a strange car. And Mr. Kingley had nothing to do with the Sons of Sunshine. It was ridiculous to think even for a moment that he had. She trusted him implicitly. He had been so kind and helpful, and Mr. Pracht had been anything but kind and helpful. She was afraid of Mr. Pracht, afraid of his hard little eyes, and the cruel twist of his mouth and his cold, contemptuous voice. She was afraid of him, or she would have been afraid of him if she hadn't been a Gilfooly.

And she hated him! If she only could wake up and find that this was all a dream, that she was not a queen, that she never had been a queen, and that she was only a salesgirl in the Evergreen again. She shivered as she thought longingly of that safe nook behind the aluminum in the basement of the Evergreen. Joe Cary had told her that queens had their troubles, but she had laughed at him. She had preferred to listen to Mr. Bill, who told her how beautiful and sweet queens were, and how much to be envied. He would find her, of course. Mr. Bill would be sure to find her. As soon as he heard that she had not returned to the hotel, he would take his hat and find her. Mr. Bill was so strong and so brave. She felt stronger and braver herself as she remembered how strong and brave Mr. Bill was. She released the spindles and walked around to sit on the side of the bed and look about the room.

It was big and square and dark. Funny there was no window. Here was the bed, and over there against the wall was an old washstand and a huge wardrobe, and against the other wall was an old-fashioned bureau. In the fourth wall was the door by which she had entered, and above it was the transom, which allowed a little light to filter into the room. Tessie looked at that transom. Of course she could push the washstand to the door and climb up and slip through the transom, but Mr. Pracht would catch her before she had dropped down on the other side. The transom, encouraging as it looked, was of absolutely no use as a means of escape unless Mr. Pracht left the house, and Tessie did not think he would do that. Perhaps in the middle of the night if she thought that Mr. Pracht would be asleep— But then there might be one of the Sons of Sunshine on guard! Tessie did not believe for a second that a savage, even a cannibal Sunshine Son, would ever really hurt her, but she did think that he might do something very unpleasant, and she wanted to avoid him as long as possible.

She had meant to be such a good queen, she thought with a little choking hiccup. It wasn't fair for the Sons of Sunshine to object to her before they knew what kind of a queen she would make! She meant to be simple and honest, to follow Madame Cabot's rule for queens, to be a good queen and now—. She bit her lip and pressed her hand hard against her eyes to keep back the tears. It wasn't fair!

It was funny that there was no window in such a big room. How could any one see to do her hair at that old bureau? There was a gas jet beside the bureau, but Tessie could not find any matches. It was funny that there was no window. And how old-fashioned the house was to have gas instead of electricity.

From the street, in the rear of the house, she could hear the faint rumble and squeak of a street car as it passed, and it made her realize how unbelievable the situation was. The air was close and heavy. How could any one stay in a close, airless room? She would suffocate. Was that why Mr. Pracht had locked her in the windowless room, so that she would suffocate, and the Sons of Sunshine could do as they pleased with her islands? Well, she would show him! She wouldn't suffocate! She just would not suffocate and let Mr. Pracht sell her islands to the Japanese. She wouldn't do it! But it was funny there wasn't a window.

She jumped up suddenly and crossed the room to peer behind the shabby bureau. It stood close against the wall, and she pulled at it impatiently. There was a squeak. It sounded like the very crack of doom to Tessie's frightened ears. She held her breath as she waited for Mr. Pracht to burst in and ask what she thought she was doing. But when there was no sign from Mr. Pracht, she pulled at the bureau again, waiting until the passing street car made a noise outside which might cover the noise on the inside. At last she had the bureau far enough from the wall to look behind it. Of course there was a window. She looked at it triumphantly.

"I thought so!" she said, as she dusted her hands and pushed herself behind the bureau, so that she could look out of the grimy glass into the dusky twilight.

Below the window was the roof of a small porch and beyond that was a yard inclosed with a high board fence. If she could open the window, drop on the porch, then to the ground and climb the fence, she could escape from Mr. Pracht and the Sons of Sunshine, and then— She was almost sorry that she would still be a queen even if she did escape from Mr. Pracht. She thought again almost regretfully of her old place at the Evergreen. No one had ever kidnaped her or threatened her when she was selling aluminum. She had been scolded, but every one said Mr. Walker's bark was far worse than his bite.

If she could only open this grimy window. The frame stuck tight. She tried again, tugging at it with all of her might, and when she failed to move it the tears rushed to her eyes. It was so tantalizing to see a way of escape and not be able to use it. She pushed and tugged until at last the frame shot up with an unexpectedness which almost threw her out of the window. She drew in a deep breath of the fresh evening air, and felt ready for anything. There really was nothing like fresh air to give a girl courage.

She looked down on the roof of the little porch. It seemed farther away than it had when the window was closed. For all she knew Mr. Pracht might be standing under it to catch her when she slipped down, but there was an equal chance that he wasn't there, and she would have to take the chance. She took time to bless Joe Cary and thank him before she put her feet over the sill. If it hadn't been for Joe she never in the world would have gone to the Y. W. C. A. gymnasium class and trained her muscles to do what they were told. She clung to the sill for a breathless second and then dropped. The silk belt of her frock caught on a nail, but the weight of her body tore it loose. The porch roof creaked when she struck it, but the noise was no louder, loud as it sounded in Tessie's anxious ears, than would have been made by a marauding cat.

Tessie crouched low and waited. There was not another sound. So Mr. Pracht was not on the porch, and he had not heard her. She slid quickly down a post and dashed across the yard like a shadow. Her trained muscles made easy work of the high board fence, and in a flash she was on the other side, in a narrow street, and free. She straightened herself and drew a long breath. It was unbelievable that she had escaped so easily. But she had escaped. She grinned triumphantly. She had skinned her elbows and scratched her face, but such minor casualties were of no account. She felt for the Tear of God. It was safe in the bag hanging from her waist. Suddenly she stopped grinning triumphantly, and began to cry. Now that she was free, she could realize how frightened she had been, even if she was a fearless Gilfooly.

What should she do? Where should she go? Not back to the hotel. The Sons of Sunshine would look for her there and would kidnap her again. And she had had enough of kidnaping. A little of that sort of thing was far more than enough. Where could she go and hide herself from Mr. Pracht until Mr. Marvin would make it safe for her to be found? She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief to dry her tears. This was no time to cry. There was a little purse in her pocket as well as a handkerchief, a gay little affair of red leather, and in it was a key. Tessie usually carried the little purse in her beaded bag, but her beaded bag had been so full that morning that she had taken it out and stuffed it into her pocket.

She looked at it now with a little gasp. She had carried the key in that little purse just—well, just because! She had never expected to use it again but now—

The key reminded her of Granny. What would Granny think? She must find some way to let Granny know that she was safe. Oh, wasn't it awful to think how helpless and unfortunate a queen could be! Here she was a fugitive and penniless in the streets of Waloo. And only yesterday she had been riding the streets of Waloo in her own car, and with her own chauffeur and her own bodyguard, and with a purse full of money. Could you believe that twenty-four hours would make such a change? She did not remember where she had dropped her bag. Perhaps Mr. Pracht had it. When she became a queen, she had thought that she had said good-by to Trouble and Care, and here were Trouble and Care at her very elbow. Joe Cary had said they would be there. He had declared she would find that being a queen wouldn't be all fun. And she had laughed at him! Mr. Bill had laughed, too. Mr. Bill had called Joe an old grouch—a croaking old grouch. Mr. Bill was so wonderful! But Joe Cary was right. It wasn't all fun to be a queen. There were many disagreeable moments. She shivered as she recalled some of the disagreeable moments. But at least she had learned one thing. A queen would have to take care of herself just as any girl did, even a salesgirl at the Evergreen. A queen couldn't depend entirely on her bodyguard. She wondered if Ka-kee-ta were in the house with Mr. Pracht, or if the frizzled head she had seen belonged to a savage Son of Sunshine.

She was tired—more tired than she had ever been in her life. The big anniversary sale at the Evergreen had not left her as tired as she was now. And she was hungry. What wouldn't she give for some of Granny's liver and onions and a big cup of Granny's hot coffee. And after she had eaten the liver and onions, she would like to tumble into bed and sleep forever. She would, too, after she had sent word to Granny that she was safe. She would telephone, and then she remembered that she had no money, not even a nickel, to pay the telephone charges. There was nothing in the gay red purse but the old key. She couldn't telephone! She couldn't even ride in the street car! She would have to walk. In the old days when she was just a clerk, she had never been without at least carfare, but now that she was a queen she was penniless. Could you believe it? Oh, Joe Cary was right! It wasn't all fun to be a queen!

The tears rushed to her eyes again as she went slowly around the corner. She didn't care if she was a queen, she said with a sob, she was the most miserable girl in Waloo. Where would she be safe now?