“Perhaps that is so,” answered Mrs. Graham. “I know that I am awfully timid about them. But, doctor—could you—would you—do you mind sleeping on this lounge to-night?”
“Not in the least,” cried Pennington. “Why, Mrs. Graham, it looks extremely comfortable.”
“It is very comfortable,” said Clara, giving it a little pat by way of enforcing her remark. “It is quite out of the ordinary run of lounges. I often take naps on it myself.”
“That settles it,” cried Pennington. “Now not even wild horses could drag me to a bed of ease.”
“I am very grateful to you,” said Mrs. Graham, who did not look upon the matter as a trifling sacrifice for the doctor to make. “I think we can make you comfortable, however.”
“Of course you can, Mrs. Graham; and then just think of the fame that awaits me if the burglars do come. Why, the papers will be full of me. ‘Dr. Pennington defends two helpless ladies from desperate burglars. His only weapon a horse-pistol without a hammer,’ and so on.”
“I don’t see how you can joke about such horrid men; the very thought of them makes me shudder. But we mustn’t keep you up all night, doctor. It is long after eleven. Clara, take my hand; you couldn’t persuade me to go up the stairs by myself. Doctor, would you mind standing in the hall till we get to our rooms—”
“Like the White Knight and Alice,” laughed Clara. “You remember he asked Alice to wait till he was out of sight, because her presence would cheer him—”
“Clara, you saucy girl!” cried her mother. “Doctor, I will send Bridget down to make up a bed on the lounge. Good night,” she called again, as she reached her room.