“No, I’m not. I don’t want everyone in this village talking about it,” said William sternly. “I jus’ want to get ’em back quietly an’ put ’em on an’ no one know anything about it. I don’t want anyone talkin’ about it.”
No one was about. They gazed at the stairs from the open doorway. “They’ll be upstairs,” said William in a hoarse whisper; “clothes are always upstairs. Now, come very quietly. Creep upstairs.”
Ginger followed him loyally, fearfully, reluctantly, and they went upstairs. Every time Ginger hit a stair rod, or made a stair creak, William turned round with a stern and resonant “Sh!” At last they reached the landing. William cautiously opened the door and peeped within. It was a bedroom, and it was empty.
“Come on,” whispered William, with the cheerfulness of the born optimist. “They’re sure to be here.”
They entered and closed the door.
“Now,” said William, “we’ll look in all the drawers and then we’ll look in the wardrobe.”
They began to open the drawers one by one. Suddenly Ginger said “Hush!”
There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. They drew nearer the door.
“Crumbs!” gasped William. “Under the bed—quick!”
As they disappeared under the bed the door opened and a little old gentleman came in. He looked round at the open drawers and frowned.