"What's wanted?" shouted Frank, in a weak sort of voice. "We're in bed."
"Oh, you are, are you?" said another voice. "Well, we'll come in and sing you a lullaby, eh, boys?"
"There's a bunch of them," whispered Jimmy, "we're in for it."
"Let 'em come," whispered Frank, in answer. "We'll show 'em a thing or two."
The door of the study was pushed violently open now and footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door.
"Where are you runts?" said the gruff voice, the one that had first been heard. They could hear the owner of the voice bumping around among the furniture. "You ought to have lights for the convenience of your visitors. Oh, there you are in your downy little couches for the night," said the voice again, and a hand grabbed the portières between the study and the bedroom and jammed them back.
"What do you want?" said Jimmy, in a plaintive voice, into which he tried to put as much fear as possible.
"Just want to see two cunning little things in their nighties. Have you said your prayers?" There was a laugh at this, and both boys on their backs in bed concluded that there were three of their enemies.
"Yes," said Frank, "we always do that. Please, sir, what do you want?"
"We want you, angel face," said the foremost of the trio, and striding into the room he reached for the bed clothes.