“Yes, ma’am,” said Matthew; but his old knees were shaking with fear, and he made no motion to carry out his mistress’s orders.
“Come on, Matthew,” cried Ladybird, grasping his hand, “don’t be afraid; I’ll go with you,” and before Miss Flint could stop her, Ladybird was dancing down-stairs, dragging the old man with her.
The child had provided herself with a candle, and hand in hand, she and Matthew reached the parlor door and looked in.
Then Ladybird treated the listeners to one of her best blood-curdling yells.
“Oh, gracious, glorious goodness!” she cried, “here’s a hatchet! They were going to kill us! Come down, aunty; there’s nobody here but a hatchet. And your white lady is all smashed to smithereens! And here’s matches all over! And here’s one of the burglar’s hats! Oh, aunty, come down; truly there’s nobody here!”
Timidly the Misses Flint, followed by Bridget and Martha, came down and viewed with dismay the havoc in the parlor. At first Miss Priscilla was overcome with sorrow at the smashed marble; then appalled with fear at their narrow escape from the dreadful hatchet; but was most deeply stirred by indignation at the muddy footprints on the carpet.
“They’ll never come out,” she wailed; “those spots will always show!”
“Don’t be foolish, Priscilla,” said her sister; “be thankful you’re here to scrub at them, and not dead in your bed, hatcheted into eternity by a gory villain!”
“Oh, I am thankful,” moaned Miss Priscilla. “And to think we owe our lives to that blessed little dog! Ladybird, don’t you ever hint at giving him away! The Bateses can’t have him. Why, I wouldn’t be safe a minute without that dog in the house!”
And so the next day Ladybird went over to tell Mr. Bates she had changed her mind about giving him the dog.