Dick was there trying to pick the lock of the closet door with his pocket knife.
"What are you about, sir? No more mischief to-day, if you please," exclaimed Calhoun, seizing him with the free hand, the other having enough to do to hold Walter.
"Give me that key then," cried Dick, vainly struggling to shake off his cousin's strong grip.
The words were hardly on the boy's tongue, when the door was thrown open, and Mr. Dinsmore and his daughters entered hastily, followed by the whole crowd of younger children.
"Give you the key indeed! I'd like to know how you got hold of mine, and how you dared to make use of it as you have, you young villain! There, take that, and that and that! Hold him fast, Cal, till I give him a little of what he deserves," cried Mrs. Johnson, rushing upon her son, in a towering passion, and cuffing him right and left with all her strength.
"Let me alone!" he roared; "'taint fair; old Travilla's half killed me already."
"I'm glad of it! You ought to be half killed, and you won't get any sympathy from me, I can tell you."
"And you had a share in it too, Walter?" Mrs. Conly was saying in freezing tones. "If you think he deserves any more than you gave him, Cal, you have my full permission to repeat the dose."
"Where is the cause of all this unseemly disturbance?" demanded Mr. Dinsmore severely. "Calhoun, if you have the key of that closet and those wretched disguises are there, produce them at once."
The young man obeyed, while Enna, holding Dick fast, turned a half frightened look upon her sister; to which the latter, standing with her arms folded and her back braced against the wall, replied with one of cold, haughty indifference.