“Well, your memory is not to be relied upon,” observed Persis, jauntily. “If I should tell you how long I have been here you wouldn’t believe it.”
“I am going to light the lamp,” Lisa remarked. “I don’t want any more Stygian darkness. Why, where is it? I thought it was on the table. Prue must have forgotten to bring it back when she took it out to fill it.” But, as she was in the act of leaving the room, again all was dark.
“I’ll catch those tricksters,” said Mr. Holmes. “This is getting too much of a joke,” and he secreted himself behind the door as the three white-sheeted forms appeared. The first two were too quick for him, but the last one was grabbed, and as Lisa brought in the lighted lamp Basil was discovered.
The poor boy was covered with confusion at being found the culprit, and Persis came to the rescue by saying, “Papa, it was not his fault; we coaxed him into it, Porter and I, and it was I who blew down the gas-pipes to put the lights out. It is All-Hallowe’en, you know.”
A grim smile passed over Mr. Holmes’s face. “Then I suppose you expect me to let you off,” he replied.
“Oh, yes, papa, please. It is the boys’ first evening here, and I don’t want them to think just yet that you are an ogre.”
This was too much for Mr. Holmes, and he laughed. “How much did that remark imply, I wonder, you sauce-box?” he said.
“Why? Oh, why, papa?” And Persis covered her face with both hands. “I believe I did insinuate that you were really ogrish at all times, and you aren’t a bit ever. He isn’t, boys; he is usually a dear; but once in a while, when we are very bad, he can be terrible. I warn you that when papa is seriously offended he is not savage exactly, but so ’way, ’way up—so stately and solemn—that he can scare you out of your wits.”
“Thank you for the reputation,” returned Mr. Holmes. “I am glad you are ready to back me up in maintaining proper discipline. Now, no more tricks to-night.”
“Not even apple-bobbing or meal balls?” said Mellicent, dolefully.