“But no well-conducted burglar would stand greatly in awe of such a small bundle of dog as that.”
“No,” said Ladybird, earnestly; “but he would bark, you know, and rouse the family, and then they could shoo the burglar out.”
“Has he ever scared a burglar away from Primrose Hall?”
“No, because we never had any to scare; but I know he could do it, and I just wish burglars had attacked us in the watches of the night, because I know Cloppy would have barked like fury, and so saved us all from murder and pillage; and then Aunt Priscilla would have loved him and wanted to keep him.”
“Oh, you think she would?” said Mr. Bates, a queer look of mischief coming into his eyes.
“I’m sure of it,” said Ladybird.
“But burglars never could get into Primrose Hall; isn’t it securely locked up every night?”
“Aunty means to have it so,” said Ladybird; “but old Matthew is so forgetful. Why, sometimes he leaves the parlor windows unfastened, and they open right on the front piazza.”
“Oh, well, there are no burglars around here,” said Mr. Bates, reassuringly; but his whole big frame seemed to be shaking with suppressed laughter, for which Ladybird could see no just cause.
“Now, I’ll tell you what, child,” he said: “I’ll take your dog; but I must speak to Mrs. Bates about it first, and she isn’t home now. So you take that animated mop back with you and tell your respected aunt that his doom is sealed, but that he will have to stay one more night under her roof; then to-morrow you bring him back here, and I’ll guarantee he’ll be well taken care of.”