“And tear him limb from limb,” interrupted Euphemia.
“Yes, and besides, my dear, I should hate to have any of the neighbors come and find us all up here. It would look so utterly absurd. Let me try and think of some other plan.”
“Well, please be as quick as you can. It's dreadful to be—who's that?”
I looked up and saw a female figure just entering the yard.
“Oh, what shall we do” exclaimed Euphemia. “The dog will get her. Call to her!”
“No, no,” said I, “don't make a noise. It will only bring the dog. He seems to have gone to the barn, or somewhere. Keep perfectly quiet, and she may go up on the porch, and as the front door is not locked, she may rush into the house, if she sees him coming.”
“I do hope she will do that,” said Euphemia, anxiously.
“And yet,” said I, “it's not pleasant to have strangers going into the house when there's no one there.”
“But it's better than seeing a stranger torn to pieces before your eyes,” said Euphemia.
“Yes,” I replied, “it is. Don't you think we might get down now? The dog isn't here.”