Miss Lillycrop was perfect in her docility.
A large tin tea-tray hung at the side of Miss Stivergill’s bed. Beside it was a round ball with a handle to it. Miss Lillycrop had wondered what these were there for. She soon found out.
Miss Stivergill put the dressing-table a little to one side, and placed a ewer of water on it.
At that moment the dining-room window was heard to open slowly but distinctly.
Miss Stivergill threw up the bedroom window.
The marrow in Miss Lillycrop’s spine froze.
Mr Bones started and looked up in surprise. He received a deluge of water on his face, and at the same moment a ewer burst in atoms on the gravel at his feet—for Miss Stivergill did nothing by halves. But Bones was surprise-proof by that time; besides, the coveted treasure was on the sideboard—almost within his grasp. He was too bold a villain to be frightened by women, and he knew that sleeping country-folk are not quickly roused to succour the inmates of a lonely cottage. Darting into the room, he tumbled over chairs, tables, work-boxes, fire-irons, and coal-scuttle.
“Ring!” said Miss Stivergill sharply. At the same moment she seized the tea-tray in her left hand and belaboured it furiously with the drumstick.
“Ring out at the window!” shouted Miss Stivergill.
Miss Lillycrop did so until her spinal marrow thawed.