It was the nightly practice of this lady to go over her premises from cellar to garret, to make quite sure that the servant had fastened every bolt and bar and lock. She began with the cellars. Finding everything right there, she went to the dining-room windows.
“Ha! the gipsy!—unbolted, and the shutters open!” exclaimed Miss Stivergill, fastening the bolt.
“H’m! The old fool,” thought the burglar, observing her tall square figure while thus engaged, “might as well bolt the door of Newgate with a steel pen. Cottage window-gear is meant for show, not for service, old girl.”
“I look round regularly every night,” observed Miss Stivergill, entering her bedroom, in which Miss Lillycrop usually occupied a chair bed when on a visit to The Rosebud. “You’ve no idea how careless servants are (‘Haven’t I, just?’ thought her friend), and although I have no personal fear of burglars, I deem it advisable to interpose some impediments to their entrance.”
“But what would you do if they did get in?” asked Miss Lillycrop, in some anxiety, for she had a very strong personal fear of burglars.
“Oh! I have several little plans for their reception,” replied the lady, with a quiet smile. There’s a bell in the corner there, which was meant for the parish church, but was thought to be a little too small. I bought it, had a handle affixed to it, as you see, and should ring it at an open window if the house were attempted.
“But they might rush in at the door and stop you—kill you even!” suggested the other, with a shudder.
“Have you not observed,” said Miss Stivergill, “that I lock my door on the inside? Besides, I have other little appliances which I shall explain to you in the morning, for I scorn to be dependent on a man-servant for protection. There’s a revolver in that drawer beside you”—Miss Lillycrop shrank from the drawer in question—“but I would only use it in the last extremity, for I am not fond of taking human life. Indeed, I would decline to do so even to save my own, but I should have no objection to maim. Injuries about the legs or feet might do burglars spiritual as well as physical good in the long-run, besides being beneficial to society.—Now, my dear, good-night.”
Miss Stivergill extinguished the candle as violently as she would have maimed a burglar, and poor Miss Lillycrop’s heart leapt as she was suddenly plunged into total darkness—for she was naturally timid, and could not help it.
For some time both ladies lay perfectly still; the hostess enjoying that placid period which precedes slumber; the guest quaking with fear caused by the thoughts that the recent conversation had raised.