"Miss Pansy!" I called.
She quit crying.
"This Curly's in danger," says I. "Brace up; act brave, and when this waggon stops at the door, meet the men who try to break in. Tell them you're not to home, and give 'em some Christian Science."
She went quite cool to wait by the front door, and now I could see the dust of a waggon come up against the afterglow in the sky.
"Miss Blossom," I called, "roll Curly out through that window just as she is. Quick!"
"Oh, but——"
"Curly," I shouted, "come out!"
"Coming!"
"Fix that bed, Miss Blossom; lay in it with Curly's wig, and prepare to play daid!"
Curly came tumbling through the mosquito bar in the window, dropped on her feet like a cat. "Horses!" I whispered, and she ran, her spurs clattering outrageous along the gravel-path.