"Murder!—Fire!—Watch!" screamed the thoroughly frightened old woman. "Oh, help! help! fire!" At this terrible noise nearly every one in the household was aroused, and hurried to the spot whence it proceeded. They found Mrs. Thomas standing in the dark, with the lid of the jar in her hand, herself the personification of terror. The carpet was badly burned in several places, and the fragments of the lamp were scattered about the floor.
"What has happened?" exclaimed Mr. Morton, who was the first to enter the kitchen. "What is all this frightful noise occasioned by?"
"Oh, there is a man in the house!" answered Mrs. Thomas, her teeth chattering with fright. "There was a man in here—he has just sprung out," she continued, pointing to the bread-jar.
"Pooh, pooh—that's nonsense, madam," replied the son-in-law. "Why an infant could not get in there, much less a man!"
"I tell you it was a man then," angrily responded Mrs. Thomas; "and he is in the house somewhere now."
"Such absurdity!" muttered Mr. Morton; adding, in a louder tone: "Why, my dear mamma, you've seen a mouse or something of the kind."
"Mouse, indeed!" interrupted the old lady. "Do you think I'm in my dotage, and I don't know a man from a mouse?"
Just then the cat, whose back had got severely singed in the melee, set up a most lamentable caterwauling; and, on being brought to light from the depths of a closet into which he had flown, his appearance immediately discovered the share he had had in the transaction.
"It must have been the cat," said Robberts. "Only look at his back—why here the fur is singed off him! I'll bet anything," continued he, "that air boy has had something to do with this—for it's a clear case that the cat couldn't git into the jar, and then put the lid on hissef."
Tom's inability to accomplish this feat being most readily admitted on all sides, inquiry was immediately made as to the whereabouts of Charlie; his absence from the scene being rather considered as evidence of participation, for, it was argued, if he had been unaware of what was to transpire, the noise would have drawn him to the spot at once, as he was always the first at hand in the event of any excitement. Robberts was despatched to see if he was in his bed, and returned with the intelligence that the bed had not even been opened. Search was immediately instituted, and he was discovered in the closet at the foot of the stairs. He was dragged forth, shaken, pummelled, and sent to bed, with the assurance that his mother should be sent for in the morning, to take him home, and keep him there. This being exactly the point to which he was desirous of bringing matters, he went to bed, and passed a most agreeable night.