Don grinned up at her. “You have a speck on your specs, Aunt Martha.”
“Donald!”
“A speck of dust on your spectacles, Aunt Martha.”
His aunt hastily removed the speck with the corner of her apron. “Now just see that candle,” she said. “I thought it was just yesterday that I put a fresh one in the stick—but see how short it is now!”
Don examined the candle with great care, as if to find out what had become of the rest of it. “Why, it seems that——” he began and then sprang to his feet.
From the street came the sound of shouting and of heavy footsteps on the cobblestones.
“O Donald, they’ve come. It’s—it’s——”
“Now, you be easy, Aunt Martha,” Don interrupted her.
Though he spoke calmly he was anything but calm in his mind. He went to the door, and just as he reached it someone pounded heavily on the outside.
“Open the door, Donald,” said Aunt Martha, “or they’ll beat it down.”