“Down cellar; I'll get it;” and taking the lamp and jug, Tom departed, bent on doing his duty now like a saint.
The moment his light vanished, Fanny bolted the door, saying, spitefully, “Now, we are safe from any more tricks. Let him thump and call, it only serves him right; and when the candy is done, we'll let the rascal out.”
“How can we make it without molasses?” asked Polly, thinking that would settle the matter.
“There's plenty in the store-room. No; you shan't let him up till I'm ready. He's got to learn that I'm not to be shaken by a little chit like him. Make your candy, and let him alone, or I'll go and tell papa, and then Tom will get a lecture.”
Polly thought it was n't fair; but Maud clamored for her candy, and finding she could do nothing to appease Fan, Polly devoted her mind to her cookery till the nuts were safely in, and a nice panful set in the yard to cool. A few bangs at the locked door, a few threats of vengeance from the prisoner, such as setting the house on fire, drinking up the wine, and mashing the jelly-pots, and then all was so quiet that the girls forgot him in the exciting crisis of their work.
“He can't possibly get out anywhere, and as soon we've cut up the candy, we'll unbolt the door and run. Come and get a nice dish to put it in,” said Fan, when Polly proposed to go halves with Tom, lest he should come bursting in somehow, and seize the whole.
When they came down with the dish in which to set forth their treat, and opened the back-door to find it, imagine their dismay on discovering that it was gone, pan, candy, and all, utterly and mysteriously gone!
A general lament arose, when a careful rummage left no hopes; for the fates had evidently decreed at candy was not to prosper on this unpropitious night.
“The hot pan has melted and sunk in the snow perhaps,” said Fanny, digging into the drift where it was left.
“Those old cats have got it, I guess,” suggested Maud, too much overwhelmed by this second blow to howl as usual.