Mrs. Beckwith silently joined the company, and when the three met on the stairs, each expressed surprise that the other had not gone quietly to sleep as usual, and each was attired exactly as during the day. Mrs. Beckwith bore the traditional weapon of womankind, a broom; and when Belle added her presence to the others, she was likewise equipped.
At the door of the sitting-room somebody dropped her article of defence with such a clatter that Mr. Dolloway sprang from his chair, angrily demanding: “What in the world do you mean coming into a man’s room in this way, without warning?” Then recollecting himself, he laughed at his own blunder, and changed his question to, “Why did you get up when there has been no rapping?”
“But, excuse me, there has been rapping, even louder than last night,” responded Beatrice, shivering a little.
“What’s that? Haven’t I been here all the time? If the thumps had come don’t you s’pose I’d ’a’ heard ’em?”
“Possibly you fell asleep.”
“Fell asleep! H’m-m. When I set out to watch, I watch!”
“But—”
Rat-a-tat, a-tat! The unseen disturbers of the peace interfered to prevent any further misunderstanding between the volunteer protector and the protected.
Mr. Dolloway held up his hand for silence. Again the sounds were repeated, this time with redoubled force it seemed to the strained ears of the listeners.
The next they knew the old man was back in his arm-chair, laughing violently and swaying to and fro in his paroxysm of mirth. “Ha, ha, ha! That’s the best joke I ever heard, the very best. And to think Mr. Brook himself didn’t guess at it!”