Bethany came in and, seeing that he did not wish to be disturbed, sat down on the rug with Sukey.
Higby brought in the afternoon mail, and with a stifled yawn laid it on the table and departed.
Poor old Higby! He was a very early riser, and at the close of every day he began to get sleepy, and immediately after the seven o’clock dinner of the household he retired to his room. Jennie, the parlor maid, took upon herself his duty of going to the hall door when there was a ring.
On this particular day the Judge composed his speech, then went down to dinner with Bethany. Somewhat to his dismay, somewhat to his relief, and just a little to his amusement, Titus and Dallas came to the table like two brothers. Their eyes were on each other, their attentions were for each other; they scarcely saw the Judge and Bethany.
Ah! the enthusiasm of youth, and shaking his head the Judge requested them both to accompany him to his study after dinner. Upon arriving there he talked to them very seriously on the evil of picking quarrels with other boys and the demoralizing effects of an appeal to brute force.
The boys were listening attentively and respectfully, when their minds were most forcibly withdrawn by a succession of blood-curdling shrieks from the floor above.
With one accord they all sprang to their feet and ran out to the hall.
“B-b-burglars! Th-th-thieves! F-f-fire! M-m-murderers!” rang out in stammering tones.
Poor old Higby, in the fine dressing-gown that the Judge had given him at Christmas, and in a pair of bedroom slippers to match that Mrs. Blodgett had made for him, was running downstairs, screaming at the top of his voice, and with eyes starting from his head.
“R-r-ring up the police,” he went on, “c-c-catch them alive!”