“How many of you have eaten some of these? Tell the truth, now.” They quailed before her sternness—quailed and confessed. All told, seven had swallowed the sweet pellets, in numbers ranging from two to a dozen more.
“Is it poison?” Chip whispered the question in the ear of the perturbed Little Doctor.
“No—but it will make them exceedingly uncomfortable for a time—I'm going to pump them out.”
“Good shot! Serves 'em right, the little—”
“All of you who have eaten this—er—candy, must come with me. The rest of you may stay here and play, but you must NOT touch this case.”
“Yuh going t' give 'em a lickin'?” Sary Denson wetted a finger copiously before turning a leaf upon the beautiful skeleton.
“Never mind what I'm going to do to them—you had better keep out of mischief yourself, however. Mr. Bennett, I wish you would get some fellow you can trust—some one who won't talk about this afterward—turn this case around so that it will be safe, and then come to the back bedroom—the one off the kitchen. And tell Louise I want her, will you, please?”
“I'll get old Weary. Yes, I'll send the Countess—but don't you think she's a mighty poor hand to keep a secret?”
“I can't help it—I need her. Hurry, please.”
Awed by the look in her big, gray eyes and the mysterious summoning of help, the luckless seven were marched silently through the outer door, around the house, through the coal shed and so into the back bedroom, without being observed by the merrymakers, who shook the house to its foundation to the cheerful command: “Gran' right 'n' left with a double ELBOW-W!” “Chasse by yer pardner—balance—SWING!”