“Oh! oh! there are burglars in the house,” he cried excitedly, “and the others have gone down to them; I’m sure they’ll be killed—I told them not to go, but they would. Let’s go and hide under a bed somewhere. Oh! oh, what will become of us?”
“Don’t be such a coward,” I cried, hurrying down stairs, while the poor little Rhymester, afraid to be left alone upstairs, tremblingly followed.
Sure enough there was a sound of struggling going on, and voices raised in loud dispute.
“Oh, that story won’t do for me,” I heard the Doctor-in-Law exclaim.
“But I tell yez, sor,” chimed in another strange voice, “I waz only going to——”
“Never mind what you were going to do, give up the sack,” said the Doctor-in-Law.
Then there were sounds of struggling, and amidst the confusion a voice saying:
“Hold him down! Sit on him! That’s right! Now for the sack.”
And, bursting the door open, a curious sight met my eyes. A poor sweep lay flat upon the floor, with the Wallypug sitting upon him, and One-and-Nine keeping guard; while the Doctor-in-Law and A. Fish, Esq., examined his bag of soot in the corner. The poor little Rhymester summoned up sufficient courage to peep in at the doorway, and stood there making a piteous picture, with his white face and trembling limbs.
“Whatever is the matter,” I inquired as soon as I entered.