"The girls slept in a room over the parlor, and their windows faced west and south; mine faced north and west, so you see I had no view, from my bed-room, of the south windows of their room. The croquet ground was on the south side of the house, and there was a bit of vacant lawn in front of the parlor, also. The windows below were all closed and so I could not hear the rustling any more.
"I sat down by one of the parlor windows and peeped out. Presently I saw something come out from among the bushes; it was a man; and he came into the open space carrying a ladder. Then I knew what the rustling meant. He had taken the ladder from the big harvest-apple tree in front, where the girls had put it that afternoon, and was bringing it toward the house.
"The man stopped opposite the south windows of the girls' room, and began to raise the ladder. Then I knew what to do. I slipped the pistol into my pocket, went out through the dining-room, unbolted the back door as quietly as I could, crept softly to the south corner of the house, and peeped around. The ladder was already up, and somebody was climbing out of the window, while the man steadied the ladder. It was one of the girls, but I could not tell which, so I waited. When she stood upon the ground not ten feet away from me, I knew by her height that it was Grace, and Amy had started down before Grace was off the ladder. Just then the man stepped back, so that I had a fair chance at him. I took aim as well as I could, and fired.
"The man yelled. Grace screamed and tumbled over on the grass, just as I expected her to. Amy Holmes jumped from the ladder, ran to the man, and said, "quick! come!" I fired again, and Grace raised herself suddenly with such a moan that I thought in my haste I had hit her.
"I threw down the pistol, ran and picked her up as if she were a baby, and took her around to the back door. By the time I found out that she was not hurt, and had got back to the ladder, the man and Amy were gone, and I heard a buggy going down the road at a furious rate."
She paused and sighed deeply, looked at me for a moment, and then, as I made no effort to break the silence, she resumed:
"It's not a pleasant story for a mother to tell concerning her own daughter, but when I think of Nellie Ewing I know that it might accidentally have been worse.