My baskets, I calls 'em. It's sheer thieving! A fine
old yarn she'll have told, too, and a nice character she'll have
give'd me, ugh, the little--"
A ripple of laughter sounded through the silence. To him it seemed
as though Huldah were mocking him. Hesitating no longer, he strode
up the path and knocked heavily on the door. Instantly the voices
and the laughter ceased. There was a spring at the door and a growl.
Dick had scented the enemy! Then after a moment's pause a voice
asked timidly, "Who is there?"
Tom Smith heard the alarm in the voice, and rejoiced. It gave him
the greatest pleasure always to know that he inspired fear in anyone.
"Open the door. It's me, Tom Smith, and I've come after that dog of
mine that you've stole!"
No answer came, nor was the door opened.
"Open the door, I say, or I'll fetch the police for you! pack of
thieves that you are!"
The threat of the police would have made Huldah smile, if she had not
been in such a state of terror for herself, and even more so for
Dick. She knew that her "uncle" would not go within a mile of a
policeman if he could help it. Indeed, she longed and prayed for a
policeman to come along then, that she might appeal to him for
protection.
Unfortunately for them, though, not even a bolt stood between them
and their enemy, and before Huldah could step forward to shoot it, or
turn the key, the latch was raised, and Tom Smith was in the kitchen.
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