"Good evening, then, madam."
"Evening," retorted Andy's aunt with a curt nod, going on with her packing.
Andy rested his hand against the house to get a purchase and leap to the ground.
"Pshaw!" he exclaimed abruptly.
One of the hoop poles bent nearly in two, throwing him off his balance.
Andy caught at the window sill, and his body slipped to one side. He tried to drop, found himself impeded, and held himself steady, looking down.
His rustling about had made something of a racket. As he was seeking to determine what had caught and held the side of his coat, one of the wooden shutters was thrust violently open.
Its edge struck his head. He dodged aside. Then he sat staring, the full light from within the room showing him to its occupant as plain as day.
"Um!" commented Miss Lavinia, simply. "Some one was there. And you, Andy
Wildwood!"
Andy was taken aback. His aunt was not particularly startled. She rather looked stern and suspicious. She did not grab him, or call for help, or seem to care whether he came in or stayed out.