CHAPTER III.

THE BURGLAR ALARM.

DINNER was late at Dr. Ray's. He was a physician in very large practice, and was hardly ever at home for more than a few minutes from ten in the morning till six at night. He was a kind-hearted and good-tempered man, very fond of young people, and it was a great pleasure to him to receive his sister-in-law into his family. He had been very angry at Ethel for screaming, and trying to throw herself out of the carriage, when the horses started to run, and had reproved her severely.

"I shall be careful how I take you out again," he said, in conclusion. "Apart from the danger to life and limb, I don't like to lose my temper; and if there is anything which exasperates me beyond endurance, it is to have a woman scream when there is anything serious the matter."

Ethel had not forgotten and, I fear, she had not forgiven her brother-in-law's reproof. She had been rather cool to him ever since, and had secretly wondered how sister Emily had ever married "such a rough sort of person." But Dr. Ray, who was really the injured party, had quite forgotten Ethel's offence, and was ready to be good friends with her again.

"Oh, Ethel! I was looking for you," said he, as Ethel entered the room, with her hat on and her books in her hands.

"I have just come home from Italian class," replied Ethel.

"But do you carry all that load of books over to the west side every day?" asked the doctor, looking at the books which Ethel rather wearily deposited on a side table. "That will never do. We shall have you with a backache presently."

"They are a load," admitted Ethel; "but the signorina wishes us always to bring our dictionaries."

"Then you must ride, and you must have a smaller dictionary. I have one somewhere, which I should think would answer your purpose; and I will give you a lot of car tickets."

"A 'lot' of car tickets," repeated Ethel to herself. "What a coarse expression." Then asked aloud, in a tone of some surprise, "Do you understand Italian, brother?"

"I did once, at least," replied the doctor, somewhat dryly. "I lived four years in Florence, where they are supposed to speak that language with considerable fluency. You see, Ethel, you can't always tell from a toad's personal appearance how far he can hop."

Dr. Ray's memory was a treasury of proverbs from all nations, and he took a certain mischievous delight in producing the oddest of them for the benefit of his fastidious little sister-in-law.

"But you must have some car tickets," he continued, taking up his outer coat and putting his hands first into one pocket and then into another. "I have some, I know, in a paper box. That isn't it." He laid down a pretty little chip box, which Ethel took up.

"What a nice little box! How pretty it would be, varnished with black sealing-wax and trimmed with gold paper."

"Well, you may have it, as soon as the leeches are out of it," replied the doctor, still rummaging his pockets.

"Leeches!" exclaimed Ethel, with a little scream, and dropping the box as if it burned her fingers. "Oh, brother, you 'don't' carry leeches in your 'pockets?'"

"Where would you have me carry them?—In my mouth?" asked the doctor. "No; I don't carry them about with me as pets; but I have to put some on a lady's throat after dinner; and I stopped and bought them on my way, to save them the trouble and expense of sending."

Ethel shuddered. "I am sure I should rather die than have those horrid things on my throat."

"Well, perhaps you would; but then you see Mrs. Gray has a baby three months old, and several children besides, one of which is quite helpless: so she cannot afford to die rather than have leeches on her throat. Here are your car tickets at last. Now don't go walking all the way over to Addison Square again with twenty pounds of books on your arm. That won't do at all! Where is Emily? Oh, here she comes. Let us have dinner, my love. I must be off directly afterward."

"Oh, inconsistent man!" said Mrs. Ray. "How long have you preached that people should sit still after dinner."

"Much longer than you or I have practised it, madam. But Mrs. Gray is in great distress, and need, you know, makes the old wife to trot!"

Ethel could never understand the sorts of half laughing conversation which went on between her sister and her husband. She would have liked to be elevated all the time, and, above all, she hated to be laughed at. She was rather inclined to make a martyr of Emily; but Emily was so undeniably happy and cheerful that she had been obliged to give up the idea, and conclude that Emily liked it. She thanked her brother rather coolly for the car tickets, but did not promise to use them. Much as she was afraid of crossings, and cows, and other dangers of the walk to West Ironton, she feared the street-car and the drawbridge more. She once happened to be in the car with a crazy man, and she had never ventured to enter one since, unless she had somebody with her.

"The Cunningham's had a great fright last night," said Dr. Ray at dinner-time.

"How so?" asked Mrs. Ray.

"A burglar attempted to get into the house. He tried to open old Mrs. Cunningham's bedroom window, and had actually raised it, when the old lady jumped up, and snatching her cane which she always kept at her bedside, she dealt the man a sound rap over the fingers, at the same time calling her son at the top of her voice, and making all the noise she could. The man outside beat a hasty retreat, leaving the window open. We must have our fastenings looked over, Emily. I dare say some of them are out of order."

"I will do it for you," said Mr. Dalton, "I am an experienced house tinker and carpenter, especially where bolts, are concerned."

"Why, you don't really think we are in any danger, do you?" asked Ethel, laying down her knife and fork, and turning pale.

"No more than other people," replied Dr. Ray; "but burglars are apt to go in squads, and it is well to be prepared. We are no more likely to be robbed because we look to our window-fastenings than a man is likely to die because he has made his will."

"What would be the best thing to do if the house should be broken into?" asked Emily.

"Bolt your door, and make all the noise you can," replied her husband. "Very few houses are worth the risk of a fight."

"I should not dare to make any noise," said Ethel. "I should be too much frightened to scream."

"That would be a very good effect of fright in most cases," replied the doctor. "In general, screaming is both useless and dangerous; but in the case of housebreakers, the great thing is to raise an alarm."

Dr. Ray intended no allusion to Ethel's conduct in the carriage, indeed, he had forgotten all about it. But Ethel chose to think that he was talking at her, as she said, and she drew herself up and tried to look very dignified, while the tears came into her eyes and the colour to her cheeks. Dr. Ray took no notice of her, but continued talking to his wife and brother-in-law. Mr. Dalton related various anecdotes of thieves in India, and thus diverged to the Thugs and the Malay pirates.

"Oh, dear!" thought Ethel. "There is another thing. I am sure I shall never dare to go to India. I wish I had never thought of it. I wish they would stop talking. I shall never dare to go to bed."

"Well, I must be off," said the doctor, starting up. "Harry, I shall leave you to look over the windows and doors, especially of my office; but don't make the door so safe that I cannot get in; for I dare say I shall be out late."

"I do wish the doctor would spare himself a little," said Mrs. Ray. "He has been out in the cold all day; and now he is going clear up to Mrs. Gray's again, and on foot too."

"Why doesn't he ride?" asked Ethel.

"He has had the gray horse out, and the other is a little lame," replied Emily. "Matthew spares every one but himself."

"And me!" thought Ethel, but she did not say so. As she was holding the candle for Mr. Dalton to put a screw in the window-fastening, she said, rather timidly:

"Brother Henry, do you think it is safe to leave the office door with only a night-latch?"

"Safer, on the whole, than having Emily get up in the cold to let in the doctor," replied Mr. Dalton.

"But suppose somebody else should get a night-key to fit the latch?"

"Why, then, somebody could open the door and walk in, no doubt; but such a thing is not very likely to happen."

"Well, it does not seem safe to me," persisted Ethel. "I wish the doctor would have Thomas Jones sleep in the office, and open the door for him."

"Thomas Jones's wife might demur to that," said Mr. Dalton, smiling. "Perhaps she is afraid of burglars as well."

"And then perhaps Thomas might be in league with the robbers," said Ethel, musingly. "I have often heard of such things."

"Oh Ethel! Ethel!" exclaimed her brother. "How many burglars you do make to yourself! Do you know anything about poor Thomas Jones, which should lead you to think that he would conspire to rob his employers?"

"Nothing; only such things 'have' happened, you know!"

"And such things have happened as young ladies stealing goods out of the shops," said Mr. Dalton. "But you would not like to have any one suspect you of going to stores for such purposes, would you?"

"Of course not," said Ethel; "but that is different. Thomas Jones is a common working-man."

"And is Thomas Jones's character for honesty any less dear to him because his daily bread and that of his family depend upon it. You ought never to hint such a suspicion without the strongest reason. You might do the poor man an injury which he would never get over; and, besides, such fancies are a serious violation of that charity which 'thinketh no evil.'"

Ethel was silent, feeling somewhat ashamed of herself.

Mr. Dalton saw that she did so, and changed the subject. After he had looked over all the window-fastenings and bolts, and pronounced them as safe as they could be made, he went up to his room and brought down a good-sized box, which his sister had never seen before.

"My two big trunks have come at last," said he. "I was obliged to leave them behind in the custom house at Boston. I have brought each of you a work-box; but they are not alike. How shall we decide the choice?" As he spoke, he brought out two light wooden cases, and set them on the table. They were of about the same size, but of different shapes.

"Let us choose without seeing them; and let Ethel choose first," said Mrs. Ray.

This was agreed upon, and each took the case nearest to her. Mrs. Ray's turned out to be a very roomy, commodious work-box, beautifully lacquered and varnished, and containing various compartments and "cubby-holes." Ethel's was much more showy. It was a miniature cabinet, with one large drawer at the bottom, and various smaller ones above shut in by little doors. The whole was beautifully inlaid with different kinds of wood, and trimmed with silver. Ethel exclaimed with delight.

"The very thing I have always wished for so much," said she. "Do see all the cunning little drawers!"

"You have not found them all yet," said Mr. Dalton. "Look again."

Ethel looked, but she could find no more.

Mr. Dalton pressed down one of the ornamental studs, and opened a little shallow drawer, whose existence no one would have suspected.

"Now you will have a safe place to put your money and jewelry when you have any," said he.

"But, then, mine is prettier than Emily's," said Ethel, after she had admired each drawer separately, and shut up the doors to contemplate the general effect. "It is not fair that I should have the prettiest. Let Emily take this, and I will have hers."

"No, no; we will abide by our choice," said Mrs. Ray. "Besides, mine is more convenient for me than your beautiful cabinet. My needle-work is nearly all of a practical character, you know. Really and truly, my dear, I would much rather have this box," she added, seeing that Ethel still looked dissatisfied. "I should have chosen this, if I had seen them both. Go get your basket, and put your working things into your pretty drawers."

"She is very generous, is she not?" said Mr. Dalton, when Ethel had left the room.

"She is, indeed," returned Emily, warmly. "She has nothing selfish about her, except when her fears are concerned. Her cowardice lies at the bottom of almost all her faults."

The excitement of the new work-box and of unpacking some beautiful choice and ivory ornaments put the burglars out of Ethel's held, and kept them out till she went to bed. And no sooner did she find herself alone in her room than they came trooping back, not in single files but in battalions. She hardly dared to open her windows and shut her blinds; and as she did so, she was struck with a new terror at observing how very close the branches of the elm-tree came to her window. An active man could easily climb the tree and get in. She drew back hastily, and bolted both window and blind in a great hurry.

"How I do wish brother Henry slept in the next room, and not across the hall," she thought. "I don't see why Emily did not give him the front room, on this side. I should never make him hear. Then the doctor is out, and I dare say will not be at home till morning; and Thomas and Mary would never hear, even if—" And then Ethel stopped, remembering what her brother had said of the charity which thinketh no evil.

Then she began to think about the office door, with no fastening but the night-latch.

"I dare say plenty of people have the same shaped keys, for all brother Henry says about it; and, besides, what would be easier than to pick the lock? I declare it is too bad," said Ethel, half aloud and almost crying. "It is downright selfish for Dr. Ray to expose all our lives by leaving the door open."

Ethel thought about the open door till she could bear it no longer. "I shall hear the doctor as soon as he comes up on the steps," said she. "I am sure I shall not sleep a bit for dreaming of those horrid wretches Henry was talking about; and I will run down and open the door before Dr. Ray has time to knock."

So saying, Ethel stepped softly down the backstairs, and bolted not only the office door but the inner door leading from the office into the hall. Mrs. Ray usually slept in the bedroom on the lower floors; but her room was in course of being papered and painted, and she and the doctor occupied one room in the third story. When Ethel had finished her fortifications, she ran up-stairs, and going to bed as expeditiously as possible, she was soon asleep.

She was presently aroused by a noise under her window. She started up and listened. Some one was trying the windows of Emily's room. She heard him go from one window to another, and finally she heard the sash yield, and a man jump in. She was sure of it! There could be no mistake. She heard him treading softly about, opening first one door and then another till he passed into the office, by a door which opened through a closet, and which Ethel had quite forgotten. Just at that minute she remembered another leading from the office into the track hall. A desk stood against this door, which was seldom used, and as Ethel listened breathlessly, she heard the robber removing this desk with evident caution, to avoid making a noise. Once in the hall, there was nothing to hinder him and his confederates from coming up-stairs and murdering the whole family.

It was too much. Ethel flew from the bed and tugged frantically at the bell, uttering scream on scream, so utterly beside herself that when Henry knocked at her door and then opened it, she only screamed the louder, taking him for one of the robbers.

"For goodness' sake, what is the matter?" called out Emily, from the upper landing. "What does ail Ethel?"

"Robbers! Burglars in the study!" gasped Ethel, when she discovered at last who her brother was: "I heard a man get into the window of Emily's room. There, don't you hear?" as a movement was heard below.

"There is somebody down-stairs," said Henry, listening. He advanced to the stair-head, followed by Ethel, who dared not stay behind. Lo! There was the doctor coming up as coolly as possible, trimming his candle as he ascended.

"Halloo! What is the row?" he asked, looking up and seeing all the family assembled on the landing. "What is all this noise' about? And what in the name of common sense, Emily, made you bolt all the office doors? I knocked and rung till I was tired, and I had to make a burglar of myself; and get in at the window after all—so much for your fastenings, Henry,— and then I thought I should spend the night in the office. Didn't you hear the bell, Jones?"

"The bell is down, sir! The painters took it down this afternoon. But who bolted the office door? I didn't!"

"Nor I!" said Emily.

"And I am sure I didn't," said Mrs. Jones. "It must have been Miss Ethel. I thought I heard her go down-stairs."

Everybody looked at Ethel, whose cheeks were as scarlet as they had been pale before. Dr. Ray set down his candle, dropped into his chair, and burst into one of his great hearty laughs, in which he was joined after a minute by every one of the company.

"Oh, Ethel! Ethel! You will be the death of me," groaned the doctor, holding his hand to his side. "So you first bolted me out of my own house, and when I was forced to break into it, you were for treating me as a burglar. It is a hard case if a man can't break into his own premises."

"I don't know whether the law would make that burglary or not," said Mr. Dalton.

"If I am sent to State's prison, Ethel will have to go too as an accessory before the fact," returned the doctor. "But come, go to bed. You will all have your deaths of cold, and that will be worse than robbery. Come, Ethel, never mind. There is no great harm done, and the joke is worth the trouble." And laughing again, the doctor proceeded up-stairs to bed.

Ethel retreated to her room, feeling as though she should like to take to her bed and never leave it again. She was very sensitive to laughter, especially to Dr. Ray's, who, good-natured as he was, was a little given to teasing. How soundly she must have slept! A dozen robbers might have gone over the house without her hearing them. Heartily ashamed and vexed, she crept into and cried herself to sleep.