"We'll soon let him understand that we came for his good."
Mr. Tarbox was just about retiring, or rather he was making the usual preparations—bringing in kindling wood from the shed, raking out the fire, etc.—when a knock was heard at the outer door.
In the Tarbox household such a thing as a visitor at half-past 10 o'clock in the evening was absolutely unknown.
"Who can it be, Nathan?" asked Mrs. Tarbox, in a flutter.
"How do I know?" returned her husband in the usual polite tone in which he was accustomed to address his wife.
"Suppose it should be burglars?" suggested Mrs. Tarbox, nervously.
"They'd be very likely to knock at the door, wouldn't they, you goose!" said her husband. "That's exactly what they always do, isn't it?"
The knock was repeated.
"Go to the door, Mrs. Tarbox."