The “pretty soon” was not very soon. Mrs. Barnes began to lose patience.
“I ain't goin' to roost on this step till mornin',” she declared. “I'm goin' inside. Ain't that a bell handle on your side of the door, Emily? Give it a pull, for mercy sakes!”
“But, Auntie—”
“Give it a pull, I tell you! I don't know who lives here and I don't care. If 'twas the President of the United States he'd have to turn out and let us in this night. Here, let me do it!”
She gave the glass knob a sharp jerk. From within sounded the jingle of an old-fashioned spring bell.
“There!” she exclaimed, “I guess they'll hear that. Anyway, I'll give 'em one more for good measure.”
She jerked the bell again. The peal died away in a series of lessening tinkles, but there was no other sound from within.
“They must be sound sleepers,” whispered Emily, after a moment.
“They must be dead,” declared Thankful. “There's been smashin' and crackin' and hollerin' enough to wake up anybody that wa'n't buried. How that wind does blow! I—Hello! here comes that man at last. About time, I should say!”
Winnie S. appeared, bearing the lantern.