“We’d a-had to git out anyhow,” muttered Papa, “on account of that charity minx. Yes, we will; an’ we hain’t heard from her. You’ll have to visit her agin.”
“I s’pose so. An’ when I do—that cop’s comin’ has given me an idea—I’ll bring her to time.”
“How?”
Mamma leaned toward him, and touched his shoulder with her bony forefinger.
“Just as that cop ’ud have brought you to time, if it hadn’t been for Franzy’s comin’.”
Over Papa’s wizened face a look of startled intelligence slowly spread itself.
“Old woman,” he ejaculated, “Satan himself wouldn’t a-thought of that! The devil will be proud of ye, someday. But Franzy mustn’t see the gal.”
“I’ll manage that,” said Mamma. “It’s risky, but it’s the only way; I’ll manage it.”
They had heard no sound, although as they talked they also listened, but while the last words yet lingered on the old woman’s lips, the door suddenly opened and Franz entered.
“There’s no danger,” he said, closing the door and securing it carefully. “Ye kin breathe easy, old top; we’re a good deal safer jest now than our ‘dark lantern’ in there,” and he nodded toward the inner room.