I did not much blame him for wanting to crow a bit, after all that had happened.
On the whole it was fortunate that we came home when we did. The storm continued; all next day it poured and drove furiously; but apple-cutting went on blithely indoors. What was rare for him, Addison had a bad cold with a very sore throat; and we all retired early that night, not having as yet caught up all arrears of broken sleep from the camping trip.
But it was not to be a night of rest; and I for one was destined to have an exciting experience before morning. Shortly after midnight there came an obstreperous knocking and thumping at the outer door, so loud that it waked us in our beds up-stairs. It was repeated twice; and then I heard the Old Squire below call out, "Who's there?"
"It's me," replied a troubled voice.
"Well, but who's 'me?'"
"Bobbie Sylvester. And please, sir, my folks want you to send one of the boys after the doctor, quick!"
There was a sudden exclamation of wrath and indignation from Addison in his room, with a chain of comments, which it is not necessary to remember.
"Why, what's the matter?" we heard the Old Squire call out. But just then we distinguished the murmur of Gram's voice, and a moment later heard her coming up the stairs to speak to us.
"Boys," said she, "one of you must ride to the village after the doctor for Mrs. Sylvester."
"But, Gram, it's a terrible night," Ad expostulated.