She kept on with her reading. Presently there was a rumble of thunder, not so loud, however, but that Mrs. Bobbsey heard the ringing of the front doorbell at the same time.
“I wonder who that is at this time of night, and out in all this storm,” she said to herself, as she arose and walked through the front hall. Before she reached the door she heard the patter of bare feet in the upper hall.
“Mother, did you hear the bell ring?” asked Freddie.
“I heard it! I haven’t been asleep yet,” called Flossie. “Is that daddy come home? I want to kiss him!”
“No, it can’t be your father—he has a key,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Go back to bed this instant, children! You’ll catch cold in your nighties! Go back to bed!”
Flossie and Freddie did so, though they did not want to. Mrs. Bobbsey went to the front door. There was an electric lamp outside, which she could light by pushing a button within the hall. This she did and glanced out before opening the door.
But, to her surprise, she saw no one standing on the steps. The rain was running down the glass in little streams, but no one could be seen.
“That’s strange,” mused Mrs. Bobbsey. “I’m sure I heard the bell ring—and so did the children. Perhaps it was some one who made a mistake and got the wrong house, and after they saw the number they walked away. My, how it rains!”
She went back to her reading. Again came the distant rumble of thunder, following a flash of lightning. And, again, the doorbell tinkled.
“That must be some one!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, and, she said afterward, she had a “queer feeling” as she again arose and went to the door.