With her arm full of bundles, Phœbe rushed back through the hall and out of the front door. Rebecca followed her, drawn along by the fiery momentum of her sister.
"Lock the front door, Rebecca," Phœbe cried. Then, as she reached the gate and found it fastened: "Here, I can't undo the gate. My hands are full. Oh, do hurry, Rebecca! We haven't a minute!"
The elder sister locked the front door and started down the path in such a nervous fever that she left the key in the lock. Half way to the gate she paused.
"Come on—come on!" Phœbe cried, stamping her foot.
"My land!" stammered Rebecca. "I've forgot everythin'!" She started back, running with short, unaccustomed steps.
"My umbrella!" she gasped. "My recipes—my slips!"
Phœbe was speechless with anger and apprehension at this delay, and Rebecca was therefore allowed to re-enter the house without objection.
In a short time she reappeared carrying an umbrella, two flower-pots, and a folded newspaper.
"There!" she panted, as she came up to her sister and opened the gate. "Now I guess I've got everythin'!"
Silently and swiftly the two women sped northward, following the imaginary burglar, while the devoted Mrs. Allen ran breathless in the opposite direction for Si Pray and his gun.