But the caution was not necessary. All of the pent-up anxiety turned into wrath as Barbara became sure of the step. Her heart hardened toward the small offender as she hastily made her plans for his reception. In response to the second knock at the door, she answered the summons.
“Who’s there?” she asked, without opening the screen.
“It’s me,” said a still, small voice.
“What do you want?”
“Want to come in.”
“Well, you can’t come in. I don’t let strange men into my house at this time of night.”
There was a pause on the front step as the little lad wearily shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then he knocked again.
“Want to get in.”
Jack looked at Barbara, warningly. “I can’t let you in,” she said; “I’m alone in the house; my father and mother are away from home, and I never let strangers in when I’m alone.”
“I’m not strangers; I’m Charles.”