Old Purdy listened, his ear against the door. "I can hear her rustlin' about a little," he said, "an'—there, that was a faint moan—mebbe she's been took with a spell or suthin'."
"Let's get the door open, anyway," begged Polly. "If it's a joke, I'll stand for it, but I'll bet you something's happened."
"What could happen, unless she's had a stroke, an' if that's it, she wouldn't be a callin' out 'Thieves!' Didn't you say she said that?"
"Yes, as plain as day!"
"Then that proves she's foolin' us! How could there be thieves in there, an' the door locked?"
"Well, get it open. I'm plumb scared," and Polly's round face was pale with fright.
"But I can't. Do you want me to break it in? We'd get what for in earnest if I done that!"
"Run around and look in the windows," suggested Polly, "and I'm going to call Miss Iris. I jest know something's wrong, this time."
"What is it?" asked Iris, responding to the summons, "what was that noise I heard?"
"Mrs. Pell screamed out, Miss Iris, and when I went to see what was the matter, I found the door locked, and we can't get in."