I never before realized father's strength. He got his hand in my collar, and he jerked me out from under that counter, and shook me, and held me off at arm's length.
"There, Mr. Burglar," said he, triumphantly, "sneak in here again will—John!"
The girls had been screaming and running, but they stood still now.
"Yes, John!" said I, in desperation. "The drawer came loose under the counter, and I was nailing on a strip of board when those young ladies came in. I kept quiet, just for fun. They began to talk in an interesting manner, curiosity got the better of politeness, and I'm afraid I've played eavesdropper," and I made a killing bow, meant especially for Belle.
"Well, you're a pretty one!" exclaimed father.
"So they say," said I. "Don't leave, young ladies. I'd like to sell you a magnifying-glass, and some cold cream." But they all left in a hurry. They didn't even buy a pair of gloves.
The girls must have told of it, for the story got out, and Fred advised me to try counter-irritation for my bashfulness.
"You're not a burglar," said he, "but you're guilty of counter-fitting."
"Nothing would suit me better," I retorted, "than to be tried for it, and punished by solitary confinement."
And there was nothing I should have liked so much. The iron had entered my soul. I was worse than ever. I purchased a four-ounce vial of laudanum, went to my room, and wrote a letter to my mother: