That instant a shot rang out, and then another!
“Oh!” screamed Mrs. White, dashing up and rushing down the stairs with Dorothy close behind her. “The boys! My boys!” Then she stumbled and fell into the arms of Ned, who knew how keen would be her anxiety, and was hurrying to assure her that the shots were only sent out to alarm the neighborhood, and that John and men from other nearby stables were now trying to run down the midnight intruders.
“Mother! Mother!” whispered the youth. “Everything is all right. No one is hurt. Mother, see! Here is Nat now. He didn’t go out. Come, let us put you to bed.”
“Boys!” breathed Mrs. White, opening her eyes. “I am all right now. But I was so frightened! Ned—Nat, are you both here? Then I will go upstairs,” and she rallied bravely. “I do hate so to hear a pistol shot. It was that—but no one is hurt, and they are gone? No matter what they took, I am so glad they did get away.”
In spite of the boys’ regard for their mother, it was quite evident they were not so well pleased at the safe departure of the robbers, but now they must “put their mother to bed,” and then—
“You girls stay upstairs with her,” whispered Nat to Dorothy, as the party made its way to Mrs. White’s room. “We may be out for a while. If she calls us, just say—”
“Oh, leave that to me,” said Dorothy authoritatively. “We can keep the burglars out now, I guess,” and she laughed lightly at the “guess,” when there was positive assurance that the burglar scare had entirely subsided, and that John and the others were on active “picket duty” about the place.
“What was broken?” Mrs. White asked, more for the sake of saying something than to express interest in the loss.
“The lamp,” answered Dorothy, “and what a pity. That lamp was such a beauty. It came as near making moonlight as anything artificial possibly could.”
“Then we will get a sunshine in place of it,” said Mrs. White, brightening up.