THE MIDNIGHT ALARM
But one week remained now of all the long summer vacation--then school
must be taken up again, and the labor of learning must become both work
and play for our young friends.
Dorothy and Tavia were to go back to Glenwood. Mrs. White had decided
that the girls should not be separated, and consequently she provided
the funds that were lacking on the part of the Travers family; for
Tavia’s father had not been as prosperous in business during the past
summer as he had formerly been, and in spite of many heroic efforts on
his part, it was found impossible to get the necessary money together
to send Tavia back to Glenwood.
It was on the very evening that Dorothy came in from her walk with
Urania, that the school affairs were definitely decided upon.
Mrs. White had received from Mr. Travers an answer to her letter
regarding the school question, and so, when dinner was over, and
stolen pigeons fully and finally discussed (they had not come home,
however), Dorothy, Tavia and Mrs. White--the boys being rigorously
excluded--adjourned to the sitting room to make notes and give notes,
necessary in the formality of getting ready for boarding school.
Mrs. White was a beautiful woman, and her very presence seemed an
inspiration to young girls, she was so gentle, so kind, so charming and
so correct, without being prudish. Even the careless, frivolous Tavia
“went down” beneath Aunt Winnie’s power, and was bound to admit it was
“nice” to be well dressed, and “attractive” to have good manners.
On this particular evening Mrs. White was gowned in the palest
lavender--a delicate orchid shade, and in her hair was a wild flower
that Dorothy had brought in from the woods, the tints of this little
spray toning exactly with the shade of the soft, silky gown.
Dorothy, too, was becomingly dressed. She wore her favorite light
green--the one that Tavia always declared made Dorothy look like a
lily, for her fair head above the “green stalk” easily suggested the
comparison. Tavia, as usual, picked out the first dress that brushed
her face as she entered the wardrobe, but it happened to be a pretty
one, a bright plaid in fine Scotch gingham, that suited Tavia’s high
color and light brown hair admirably.
“Now, my dears,” began Mrs. White, “I think we had best all go to town
together, and then there will be no mistakes made about the sizes of
your school things. The boys will leave for Cadet Hall in a few days,
and after that we will be at liberty to take a whole day in town
without neglecting any one. Major and the little boys” (Dorothy’s
brothers) “will not be home for a week yet, schools do vary so in the
time of opening, so that the thing for us to do now is, first: get Nat
and Ned off, then attend to the shopping. After that we will just have
time for a little reunion with the major and the boys, then it will be
time to pack my girls off. Dear me,” said she, laughing, “I have quite
a large family nowadays, but their care seems to agree with me.”
“You never looked better, Aunt Winnie,” declared Dorothy, with evident
sincerity. “I hope I will grow tall and--straight like you.”
“You are doing your best now, girlie,” her aunt assured her, as she
glanced at Dorothy’s slender form, that made such a pretty picture
against the dark portieres she happened to cling to.
“But I’m getting fat,” groaned Tavia. “My clothes won’t button, and,
oh, I do hate fat!”
“Take more exercise,” said Mrs. White, with a meaning laugh, for
Tavia’s “tom-boy” habits were a confirmed joke among her friends, and
for her “to take more exercise” seemed to mean to climb more fences and
tear more dresses.
The sitting room was on the first floor, just off the side porch,
and the long, low, French windows in the room were draped with a
transparent stuff, but on this evening the shades had not yet been
drawn.
There was a fixed rule at the Cedars that all shades should be drawn
down as soon as the lights were turned on, but the interest in school
talk so occupied our little party that the uncovered windows were
entirely overlooked on this particular evening.
Tavia was seated on a low stool, very close to an open window, and just
as Mrs. White made the remark about the major being away from home,
Tavia fancied she heard a step on the side porch. She was positive
the boys had gone out in their automobile, the Fire Bird, and so was
puzzled as to the sound--it certainly was a step and a very light one,
as well.
But Tavia did not interrupt the talk, in fact, she had no idea of
alarming any one while the boys were away, and perhaps the servants
might be off somewhere, for the evening was a pleasant one, and
everybody seemed to be making the most of these last few fine nights of
summer.
“And about your trunks,” went on Mrs. White, “I think we had better
get larger ones, for you say you did have such a time getting all your
clothes in when leaving school last term. Don’t you think, Tavia--but
what are you listening to?” asked Mrs. White, noting the look on
Tavia’s face. “Do you hear the boys coming? My! we have forgotten to
draw the shades. Dorothy, just draw that one, and, Tavia, close the one
at your elbow. It is never safe to sit by uncovered windows after dark.”
The light from the room fell across the broad piazza and as Tavia put
her arm up to the shade she distinctly saw the line of light outside
crossed by a shadow. She stepped back involuntarily, and at the same
instant Dorothy gave a scream.
“A man!” she called. “He just passed the window. And, oh, he looked at
me so!”
This was all Dorothy could say. Then she sank into a chair trembling
visibly.
“I saw him,” said Tavia, “but I’ve seen him before. I suppose he’s
prowling around for something to eat.”
“There is no need to be so frightened, Dorothy,” said Mrs. White. “We
will just go about and see that things are locked up. I do wish the
boys were in, though, and perhaps you had better call up the stable,
Tavia, and ask John to come down to the house.”
The ’phone to the stable was just at the door of the sitting room, so
Tavia did not have to venture far to call the man. But no answer came
to the summons. John was not in the stable.
“Well, the boys will be back shortly,” Mrs. White said confidently,
“and there is no need for alarm. We will see that the doors are
fastened. You did get a start, Dorothy, but you know, my dear, in the
country people cross lawns and take short cuts without really meaning
to trespass.”
“Oh, I’m all right now,” replied Dorothy, “but it was--sudden. I’ll see
that the shades are drawn at dark after this,” and she laughed lightly
as she followed her aunt and Tavia through the hall to fasten the front
door.
It was strange they should be so alarmed, but they were, and the
measured tread that marked the small procession on its way to the front
door showed plainly that each member of the trio wanted the door
locked, but was not personally anxious to turn the key.
“There,” sighed Mrs. White, when finally her jeweled finger was
withdrawn from the heavy panel. “I have often dreamed of doing
that--and having some one grab me as I turned the key, but I escaped,
luckily, this time. Now we may go back to our school plans. Suppose we
sit in the library, just to get away from the side porch.”
To this welcome suggestion the girls promptly agreed, and if the
intruder who had so disturbed them a few minutes before, chose to
follow them up, and peer through the library windows, he would have had
to cross directly under the electric light that illumined the entrance
to the villa at the Cedars.
But, somehow, Dorothy could not forget the face that she had caught
sight of, and she felt instinctively that the prowler was not a
neighbor “taking a short cut,” for he need not have stepped on the
porch in that case.
So when school matters were settled, and the boys had returned
from their ride in the Fire Bird to hear the account of the little
adventure, and to take extra precautions in locking up the big house,
Dorothy whispered to Ned and Nat her suspicion--that the man who
peeked in at the windows might be one of the bad gypsies, and that he
might know something about the stolen pigeons.
“We ought to set a trap for the rascal,” Ned whispered in answer to
his cousin’s suspicions, “he may be coming back for the rest of the
birds. I wish I had told John to keep his ears open while his eyes were
shut, but it’s too late to do that now,” and then, with every assurance
of safety, and the promise to be up at the slightest alarm, Ned and
Nat said good-night to their cousin, and Dorothy’s fears were soon
forgotten in the sleep that comes to healthy girls after the pleasant
exercise of a lingering summer’s day.
Ned and Nat, too, soon fell into sound sleep, for their evening ride
left in its tracks the pleasant flavor of most persuasive drowsiness,
in spite of the promises made to Dorothy that they would be “on the
lookout” all night, and no intruder should come around the Cedars
without the two youths of the estate being aware of the intrusion.
But alas for such promises! Did boys ever sleep so soundly? And even
Dorothy, though usually one apt to awake at small sounds, “hugged her
pillow” with a mighty “grip,” because, of course, when a girl insists
upon keeping awake just as long as she can keep her eyes propped open,
when the “props” do slip away, sleep comes with a “thud.”
So it was that Tavia, she who made a practice of covering up her head
and getting to sleep in order to avoid trouble (when she heard it
coming)--Tavia it was who heard something very like a step on the side
porch, just after midnight.
Some one has said that it is easier to keep burglars out than to chase
them out: this infers, of course, that it may be wiser to give a false
alarm than to take the opposite course. But true to her principles
Tavia covered up her head, and told herself that it would be very
foolish to arouse the household just because she heard a strange sound.
Yet there was something uncanny about the noise! There it was again!
Tavia raised her head and looked around. Dorothy slept in the alcove
and a light burned dimly from a shaded lamp between the two sleeping
apartments. Tavia could see that her chum was sleeping soundly.
“Dorothy! Dorothy!” she whispered, afraid now to hear her own voice.
“Dorothy! get up! I think I hear some one--”
Crash!
Every one in the house heard that! It came from the dining room and was
surely a heavy crash of glass breaking!
Instantly Dorothy dashed to the door, and putting her finger on an
electric button, flooded the hallways upstairs and down with glaring
light. The next moment she touched another button! The burglar alarm.
And all this time Tavia trembled there, in her bed--she who was wide
awake, and she who usually could boast of some courage!
“Oh!” she kept gasping, “I heard them long ago! They are inside, I’m
sure!”
“Heard them long ago!” Dorothy took time to exclaim, “Then do, for
goodness sake, do something! Get up and make a noise anyway! John will
be in from the stable in a moment. Get up and slip on your robe,” for
Tavia seemed “glued” to the spot.
By this time the boys were out in the hall, Ned with a glittering
revolver clutched firmly in his hand, and his younger brother leading
the way with a night light thrust out like a danger signal.
“Boys! boys!” begged Mrs. White. “Do be careful! Don’t shoot even if
you--Oh, I wish you would wait until John comes. I know I shall faint
if I hear a shot!”
Indeed, the mother was almost in a state of collapse at that very
moment, and Dorothy, meeting her aunt in the hall, quietly put her arm
around her and led her away from the stairway into the secluded alcove.
“Auntie, dear! Don’t be so alarmed,” soothed Dorothy. “They are surely
gone by this time. They never hang around after the lights are turned
on. And when that bell went off, I know they were glad to get off at
that signal.”
“Oh, I’m so--glad--Dorothy, that you turned in the alarm,” gasped Mrs.
White, “for the boys--were determined to go right down upon them--Oh!
I feel some one would surely have been shot--if you had not acted
so quickly!” and the trembling woman sank down on Dorothy’s couch,
thoroughly exhausted.
“There they go! There they go!” called Tavia, throwing up the curtains,
and thrusting her head out of the window.
“See! There’s two men! Running down the path!”
That instant a shot rang out, and then another!
“Oh!” screamed Mrs. White, dashing up and rushing down the stairs with
Dorothy close behind her. “The boys! My boys!” Then she stumbled and
fell into the arms of Ned, who knew how keen would be her anxiety, and
was hurrying to assure her that the shots were only sent out to alarm
the neighborhood, and that John and men from other nearby stables were
now trying to run down the midnight intruders.
“Mother! Mother!” whispered the youth. “Everything is all right. No one
is hurt. Mother, see! Here is Nat now. He didn’t go out. Come, let us
put you to bed.”
“Boys!” breathed Mrs. White, opening her eyes. “I am all right now.
But I was so frightened! Ned--Nat, are you both here? Then I will go
upstairs,” and she rallied bravely. “I do hate so to hear a pistol
shot. It was that--but no one is hurt, and they are gone? No matter
what they took, I am so glad they did get away.”
In spite of the boys’ regard for their mother, it was quite evident
they were not so well pleased at the safe departure of the robbers, but
now they must “put their mother to bed,” and then--
“You girls stay upstairs with her,” whispered Nat to Dorothy, as the
party made its way to Mrs. White’s room. “We may be out for a while. If
she calls us, just say--”
“Oh, leave that to me,” said Dorothy authoritatively. “We can keep the
burglars out now, I guess,” and she laughed lightly at the “guess,”
when there was positive assurance that the burglar scare had entirely
subsided, and that John and the others were on active “picket duty”
about the place.
“What was broken?” Mrs. White asked, more for the sake of saying
something than to express interest in the loss.
“The lamp,” answered Dorothy, “and what a pity. That lamp was such
a beauty. It came as near making moonlight as anything artificial
possibly could.”
“Then we will get a sunshine in place of it,” said Mrs. White,
brightening up.
“Yes, daylight for mine,” added Tavia, with a “scary” face. “Mr. Moon
goes behind a cloud too--”
“Noisily,” finished Dorothy. “At the same time he acted promptly in
this case. It is not a bad idea to have some such safeguard.”
“I always thought the lamp was in the way,” agreed the aunt, “but
as you say, Dorothy, it was in the right way this time. Well,
let us be thankful no one is hurt--it is easy to replace mere
merchandise.”
Dawn was peeping through blinds, and with the first ray of light
quietness again fell upon the Cedars. The servants had gone back to
their rooms, Dorothy and Tavia were again in their “corners,” as Tavia
termed the pretty twin alcoves, allotted the young girls while visiting
at the Cedars, and the young men--well, they did not return to their
rooms. To lose five homing pigeons, and good family silver all within
one week, was rather too exciting for boys like Nat and Ned. There was
something to be done other than sleeping just then.
Even real, daring burglars are only mortal, and sometimes the most
daring are the greatest cowards--when daylight comes and people are
wide awake!