"I've been all the way round," he said; "there are three or four entrances to this mansion, and all have bells, but nobody answered my various and insistent ringings. WHAT shall us do now, poor things?"
"I suppose they're afraid we're burglars," observed Patty; "and they're afraid to let us in."
"If they don't come pretty soon, I WILL be a burglar," declared Bill, "and I'll get in in burglar fashion. It isn't fair for people to have a warm, dry house, and keep forlorn wet people out of it. We've GOT to get in! Let's bang on the doors."
But no amount of banging and pounding, no shaking of door knobs, no whistling or shouting served to bring response.
"Throw pebbles at the window," Patty suggested, and immediately a young hailstorm bombarded the second-story panes.
"No good!" commented Bill. "So here goes!" and without further warning his large and well-aimed foot crashed through a long front window which reached down to the floor.
"Oh, my gracious!" exclaimed Patty. "WHAT a thing to do!"
"The only way is the best way," returned Bill, gaily. "Now, wait a minute, you girls, I'll let you in."
Carefully looking out for the broken glass, Big Bill inserted his hand, sprung back the catch, and opened the window.
"Don't come in this way," he cautioned, "I'll open the front door."