Before she had a chance to switch on the light and look out she once more heard the patter of bare feet in the upper hall.
“Flossie—Freddie—you mustn’t get out of bed again!” she called up the stairs.
“This isn’t Flossie or Freddie—it’s me,” said Bert, in a low voice. “I mean it’s I,” he added, as he recollected that his teacher had corrected him for saying that in class. “Who’s ringing the bell, Mother?” he asked.
“That’s just what I’m going to find out,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey. But when, once more, she looked out on the rain-swept porch she saw no one.
“This is certainly queer!” she exclaimed. “Did you hear the bell, Bert?”
“Yes, Mother, I sure did. I thought it was dad.”
“But there is no one here,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Not a soul!”
“Oh, well, maybe the lightning rang the bell,” said Bert.
“Does lightning ever do such things?” Mrs. Bobbsey wanted to know.
“Yes,” answered Bert. “We had a lesson on electricity in class the other day—not much, just a little one—and teacher said it did funny things. I guess it could ring a doorbell without anybody being near.”