“I wouldn’t mind that, Mr. Tucker; but I’ve left the spoons down-stairs!” answered his wife.
“How many are there!”
“Six. I want you to go down and get them and bring them up here, where they will be safe.”
“But suppose I should meet some of the burglars!” suggested Tucker, trembling.
“Then you must defend yourself like a man!”
“You might find me in the morning weltering in my gore!” said Joe, with an uneasy shudder.
“Are we to have the spoons stolen, then!” demanded Mrs. Tucker sharply.
“If you care so much for the spoons, Abigail, you’d better go down-stairs yourself and get ’em. I don’t value them as much as my life.”
“I don’t know but I will, if you’ll look out of the window and see whether you can see any of the burglars outside,” responded Mrs. Tucker. “If they haven’t got in yet, I’ll take the risk.”
“Where did you hear ’em, Abigail?”