There was an audible crunching of the snow outside. The door was bolted, but all four children stood for an instant with their gaze riveted upon it as if they expected to see it burst open at any moment.
“Pooh, they can’t do anything!” said Ernest coming to himself, “and the candy’ll be all spoiled.”
“Say, let’s go up to the north room and slip out on the kitchen room while the candy cools. I bet we can see ’em from there.”
The boys set the candy in a pan of snow to cool and bolted softly up the stairs. Dr. and Mrs. Morton placidly reading in the sitting room were blissfully unaware of the excitement.
“I wonder what makes the boys so quiet tonight?”
The boys followed close by Chicken Little had reached the north room and were cautiously opening the window, inch by inch, lest the sound should be heard outside. Then they quietly clambered out. At first there seemed to be no trace of the intruders. But when Carol incautiously exclaimed in a stage whisper: “Bet they’ve all vamoosed!” a distinct “Hist!” was heard from below. Finally Sherm, who was flat on his stomach, holding on to the edge of the roof, solved the mystery. He held up his hand in warning to the others, and presently came crawling back and motioned them all inside.
“They’re all close against the kitchen windows trying to find out what’s going on. They like to caught us when Carol piped up that time. Gee, looked like there was a dozen, but some of ’em are little fellers. I wish we could make a rush at them, but I guess there’s too many.”
“Shucks, I hate to give up,” growled Ernest.
“Well, we might as well go back and finish the candy!” said Carol after a pause. “We can’t do anything with such a crowd—a sweet time we’ll have getting home tonight,” he added gloomily.
“Pshaw, they’ll get tired and go home before that,” Ernest reassured him. “Say I’ve got an idea they can hear about everything we say in the kitchen. Let’s go down and pretend we’re having an awful good time and——”