“Blessed if it ain’t a female!”
“I beg your pardon!” said the Prophet, trembling with propriety. “I—I—there is no female here!”
“Yes there is!” cried the voice, with a chuckle. “There’s a female creeping and crawling about behind that there door.”
The Prophet’s sense of chivalry was now fully aroused.
“You are mistaken,” he said firmly. “There are no females creeping and—and crawling about in this—this respectable house.”
“Respectable!” ejaculated the voice, “respectable! I say there is a female. You’re a nice one, you are! ‘Pon my word, I’ve a good mind to run you in for Mormonism, I have. Wherever’s she got to?”
On the last words a sudden blaze of light shot into the pantry, and at the same moment there was the sound of wheels rapidly approaching in the square.
“Hulloh!” said the voice, “someone a-comin’.”
The light died out as rapidly as it had flashed in, the wheels drew close and stopped, and a bell pealed forth in the silent house.
“Merciful Heavens!” cried the Prophet, pressing his hands to his throbbing brow. “Merciful Heavens! who can that be?”