“Still, a good healthy goat wouldn’t be a bad weapon to turn against a burglar,” remarked Neale reflectively. “If Billy Bumps would only go at a midnight visitor in the same manner that he attacked Robbie Foote with the eggs, there’d be less for the police to do.”
“Do you want me to get the gun and the goat?” asked Sammy, anxiously.
“Thank you—no!” laughed Ruth. “And, Sammy, I don’t want to be impolite, but your mother said to send you home at eight o’clock, and it’s five minutes past now.”
“Aw, shucks!” exclaimed Sammy. “That ain’t late!”
“It is for you,” said Ruth kindly. “Run along, Sammy.”
“Then you don’t want me to fight the burglars with your old goat and pa’s gun?”
“Not to-night, thank you.”
“And don’t bring the alligator over again, either,” added Agnes.
Rather reluctantly Sammy prepared to depart, and after Dot and Tess had hidden their dolls and some other choice possessions, they were sent upstairs to bed in care of Mrs. MacCall.
“And don’t tell them any Scotch ghost stories,” cautioned Ruth. “They’re on edge now, as it is, with what that irrepressible Sammy said about burglars.”