THE BURGLAR ALARM.
DINNER was late at Dr. Ray's. He was a physician in very large
practice, and was hardly ever at home for more than a few minutes
from ten in the morning till six at night. He was a kind-hearted and
good-tempered man, very fond of young people, and it was a great
pleasure to him to receive his sister-in-law into his family. He had
been very angry at Ethel for screaming, and trying to throw herself out
of the carriage, when the horses started to run, and had reproved her
severely.
"I shall be careful how I take you out again," he said, in conclusion.
"Apart from the danger to life and limb, I don't like to lose my
temper; and if there is anything which exasperates me beyond endurance,
it is to have a woman scream when there is anything serious the matter."
Ethel had not forgotten and, I fear, she had not forgiven her
brother-in-law's reproof. She had been rather cool to him ever since,
and had secretly wondered how sister Emily had ever married "such a
rough sort of person." But Dr. Ray, who was really the injured party,
had quite forgotten Ethel's offence, and was ready to be good friends
with her again.
"Oh, Ethel! I was looking for you," said he, as Ethel entered the room,
with her hat on and her books in her hands.
"I have just come home from Italian class," replied Ethel.
"But do you carry all that load of books over to the west side every
day?" asked the doctor, looking at the books which Ethel rather wearily
deposited on a side table. "That will never do. We shall have you with
a backache presently."
"They are a load," admitted Ethel; "but the signorina wishes us always
to bring our dictionaries."
"Then you must ride, and you must have a smaller dictionary. I have one
somewhere, which I should think would answer your purpose; and I will
give you a lot of car tickets."
"A 'lot' of car tickets," repeated Ethel to herself. "What a coarse
expression." Then asked aloud, in a tone of some surprise, "Do you
understand Italian, brother?"
"I did once, at least," replied the doctor, somewhat dryly. "I lived
four years in Florence, where they are supposed to speak that language
with considerable fluency. You see, Ethel, you can't always tell from a
toad's personal appearance how far he can hop."
Dr. Ray's memory was a treasury of proverbs from all nations, and he
took a certain mischievous delight in producing the oddest of them for
the benefit of his fastidious little sister-in-law.
"But you must have some car tickets," he continued, taking up his outer
coat and putting his hands first into one pocket and then into another.
"I have some, I know, in a paper box. That isn't it." He laid down a
pretty little chip box, which Ethel took up.
"What a nice little box! How pretty it would be, varnished with black
sealing-wax and trimmed with gold paper."
"Well, you may have it, as soon as the leeches are out of it," replied
the doctor, still rummaging his pockets.
"Leeches!" exclaimed Ethel, with a little scream, and dropping the box
as if it burned her fingers. "Oh, brother, you 'don't' carry leeches in
your 'pockets?'"
"Where would you have me carry them?—In my mouth?" asked the doctor.
"No; I don't carry them about with me as pets; but I have to put some
on a lady's throat after dinner; and I stopped and bought them on my
way, to save them the trouble and expense of sending."
Ethel shuddered. "I am sure I should rather die than have those horrid
things on my throat."
"Well, perhaps you would; but then you see Mrs. Gray has a baby three
months old, and several children besides, one of which is quite
helpless: so she cannot afford to die rather than have leeches on her
throat. Here are your car tickets at last. Now don't go walking all the
way over to Addison Square again with twenty pounds of books on your
arm. That won't do at all! Where is Emily? Oh, here she comes. Let us
have dinner, my love. I must be off directly afterward."
"Oh, inconsistent man!" said Mrs. Ray. "How long have you preached that
people should sit still after dinner."
"Much longer than you or I have practised it, madam. But Mrs. Gray is
in great distress, and need, you know, makes the old wife to trot!"
Ethel could never understand the sorts of half laughing conversation
which went on between her sister and her husband. She would have liked
to be elevated all the time, and, above all, she hated to be laughed
at. She was rather inclined to make a martyr of Emily; but Emily was so
undeniably happy and cheerful that she had been obliged to give up the
idea, and conclude that Emily liked it. She thanked her brother rather
coolly for the car tickets, but did not promise to use them. Much as
she was afraid of crossings, and cows, and other dangers of the walk
to West Ironton, she feared the street-car and the drawbridge more.
She once happened to be in the car with a crazy man, and she had never
ventured to enter one since, unless she had somebody with her.
"The Cunningham's had a great fright last night," said Dr. Ray at
dinner-time.
"How so?" asked Mrs. Ray.
"A burglar attempted to get into the house. He tried to open old Mrs.
Cunningham's bedroom window, and had actually raised it, when the old
lady jumped up, and snatching her cane which she always kept at her
bedside, she dealt the man a sound rap over the fingers, at the same
time calling her son at the top of her voice, and making all the noise
she could. The man outside beat a hasty retreat, leaving the window
open. We must have our fastenings looked over, Emily. I dare say some
of them are out of order."
"I will do it for you," said Mr. Dalton, "I am an experienced house
tinker and carpenter, especially where bolts, are concerned."
"Why, you don't really think we are in any danger, do you?" asked
Ethel, laying down her knife and fork, and turning pale.
"No more than other people," replied Dr. Ray; "but burglars are apt to
go in squads, and it is well to be prepared. We are no more likely to
be robbed because we look to our window-fastenings than a man is likely
to die because he has made his will."
"What would be the best thing to do if the house should be broken
into?" asked Emily.
"Bolt your door, and make all the noise you can," replied her husband.
"Very few houses are worth the risk of a fight."
"I should not dare to make any noise," said Ethel. "I should be too
much frightened to scream."
"That would be a very good effect of fright in most cases," replied the
doctor. "In general, screaming is both useless and dangerous; but in
the case of housebreakers, the great thing is to raise an alarm."
Dr. Ray intended no allusion to Ethel's conduct in the carriage,
indeed, he had forgotten all about it. But Ethel chose to think that he
was talking at her, as she said, and she drew herself up and tried to
look very dignified, while the tears came into her eyes and the colour
to her cheeks. Dr. Ray took no notice of her, but continued talking to
his wife and brother-in-law. Mr. Dalton related various anecdotes of
thieves in India, and thus diverged to the Thugs and the Malay pirates.
"Oh, dear!" thought Ethel. "There is another thing. I am sure I shall
never dare to go to India. I wish I had never thought of it. I wish
they would stop talking. I shall never dare to go to bed."
"Well, I must be off," said the doctor, starting up. "Harry, I shall
leave you to look over the windows and doors, especially of my office;
but don't make the door so safe that I cannot get in; for I dare say I
shall be out late."
"I do wish the doctor would spare himself a little," said Mrs. Ray. "He
has been out in the cold all day; and now he is going clear up to Mrs.
Gray's again, and on foot too."
"Why doesn't he ride?" asked Ethel.
"He has had the gray horse out, and the other is a little lame,"
replied Emily. "Matthew spares every one but himself."
"And me!" thought Ethel, but she did not say so. As she was holding the
candle for Mr. Dalton to put a screw in the window-fastening, she said,
rather timidly:
"Brother Henry, do you think it is safe to leave the office door with
only a night-latch?"
"Safer, on the whole, than having Emily get up in the cold to let in
the doctor," replied Mr. Dalton.
"But suppose somebody else should get a night-key to fit the latch?"
"Why, then, somebody could open the door and walk in, no doubt; but
such a thing is not very likely to happen."
"Well, it does not seem safe to me," persisted Ethel. "I wish the
doctor would have Thomas Jones sleep in the office, and open the door
for him."
"Thomas Jones's wife might demur to that," said Mr. Dalton, smiling.
"Perhaps she is afraid of burglars as well."
"And then perhaps Thomas might be in league with the robbers," said
Ethel, musingly. "I have often heard of such things."
"Oh Ethel! Ethel!" exclaimed her brother. "How many burglars you do
make to yourself! Do you know anything about poor Thomas Jones, which
should lead you to think that he would conspire to rob his employers?"
"Nothing; only such things 'have' happened, you know!"
"And such things have happened as young ladies stealing goods out of
the shops," said Mr. Dalton. "But you would not like to have any one
suspect you of going to stores for such purposes, would you?"
"Of course not," said Ethel; "but that is different. Thomas Jones is a
common working-man."
"And is Thomas Jones's character for honesty any less dear to him
because his daily bread and that of his family depend upon it. You
ought never to hint such a suspicion without the strongest reason. You
might do the poor man an injury which he would never get over; and,
besides, such fancies are a serious violation of that charity which
'thinketh no evil.'"
Ethel was silent, feeling somewhat ashamed of herself.
Mr. Dalton saw that she did so, and changed the subject. After he had
looked over all the window-fastenings and bolts, and pronounced them as
safe as they could be made, he went up to his room and brought down a
good-sized box, which his sister had never seen before.
"My two big trunks have come at last," said he. "I was obliged to leave
them behind in the custom house at Boston. I have brought each of you a
work-box; but they are not alike. How shall we decide the choice?" As
he spoke, he brought out two light wooden cases, and set them on the
table. They were of about the same size, but of different shapes.
"Let us choose without seeing them; and let Ethel choose first," said
Mrs. Ray.
This was agreed upon, and each took the case nearest to her. Mrs.
Ray's turned out to be a very roomy, commodious work-box, beautifully
lacquered and varnished, and containing various compartments and
"cubby-holes." Ethel's was much more showy. It was a miniature
cabinet, with one large drawer at the bottom, and various smaller ones
above shut in by little doors. The whole was beautifully inlaid with
different kinds of wood, and trimmed with silver. Ethel exclaimed with
delight.
"The very thing I have always wished for so much," said she. "Do see
all the cunning little drawers!"
"You have not found them all yet," said Mr. Dalton. "Look again."
Ethel looked, but she could find no more.
Mr. Dalton pressed down one of the ornamental studs, and opened a
little shallow drawer, whose existence no one would have suspected.
"Now you will have a safe place to put your money and jewelry when you
have any," said he.
"But, then, mine is prettier than Emily's," said Ethel, after she had
admired each drawer separately, and shut up the doors to contemplate
the general effect. "It is not fair that I should have the prettiest.
Let Emily take this, and I will have hers."
"No, no; we will abide by our choice," said Mrs. Ray. "Besides, mine
is more convenient for me than your beautiful cabinet. My needle-work
is nearly all of a practical character, you know. Really and truly, my
dear, I would much rather have this box," she added, seeing that Ethel
still looked dissatisfied. "I should have chosen this, if I had seen
them both. Go get your basket, and put your working things into your
pretty drawers."
"She is very generous, is she not?" said Mr. Dalton, when Ethel had
left the room.
"She is, indeed," returned Emily, warmly. "She has nothing selfish
about her, except when her fears are concerned. Her cowardice lies at
the bottom of almost all her faults."
The excitement of the new work-box and of unpacking some beautiful
choice and ivory ornaments put the burglars out of Ethel's held,
and kept them out till she went to bed. And no sooner did she find
herself alone in her room than they came trooping back, not in single
files but in battalions. She hardly dared to open her windows and
shut her blinds; and as she did so, she was struck with a new terror
at observing how very close the branches of the elm-tree came to her
window. An active man could easily climb the tree and get in. She drew
back hastily, and bolted both window and blind in a great hurry.
"How I do wish brother Henry slept in the next room, and not across the
hall," she thought. "I don't see why Emily did not give him the front
room, on this side. I should never make him hear. Then the doctor is
out, and I dare say will not be at home till morning; and Thomas and
Mary would never hear, even if—" And then Ethel stopped, remembering
what her brother had said of the charity which thinketh no evil.
Then she began to think about the office door, with no fastening but
the night-latch.
"I dare say plenty of people have the same shaped keys, for all brother
Henry says about it; and, besides, what would be easier than to pick
the lock? I declare it is too bad," said Ethel, half aloud and almost
crying. "It is downright selfish for Dr. Ray to expose all our lives by
leaving the door open."
Ethel thought about the open door till she could bear it no longer.
"I shall hear the doctor as soon as he comes up on the steps," said
she. "I am sure I shall not sleep a bit for dreaming of those horrid
wretches Henry was talking about; and I will run down and open the door
before Dr. Ray has time to knock."
So saying, Ethel stepped softly down the backstairs, and bolted not
only the office door but the inner door leading from the office into
the hall. Mrs. Ray usually slept in the bedroom on the lower floors;
but her room was in course of being papered and painted, and she
and the doctor occupied one room in the third story. When Ethel had
finished her fortifications, she ran up-stairs, and going to bed as
expeditiously as possible, she was soon asleep.
She was presently aroused by a noise under her window. She started up
and listened. Some one was trying the windows of Emily's room. She
heard him go from one window to another, and finally she heard the
sash yield, and a man jump in. She was sure of it! There could be no
mistake. She heard him treading softly about, opening first one door
and then another till he passed into the office, by a door which opened
through a closet, and which Ethel had quite forgotten. Just at that
minute she remembered another leading from the office into the track
hall. A desk stood against this door, which was seldom used, and as
Ethel listened breathlessly, she heard the robber removing this desk
with evident caution, to avoid making a noise. Once in the hall, there
was nothing to hinder him and his confederates from coming up-stairs
and murdering the whole family.
It was too much. Ethel flew from the bed and tugged frantically at the
bell, uttering scream on scream, so utterly beside herself that when
Henry knocked at her door and then opened it, she only screamed the
louder, taking him for one of the robbers.
"For goodness' sake, what is the matter?" called out Emily, from the
upper landing. "What does ail Ethel?"
"Robbers! Burglars in the study!" gasped Ethel, when she discovered at
last who her brother was: "I heard a man get into the window of Emily's
room. There, don't you hear?" as a movement was heard below.
"There is somebody down-stairs," said Henry, listening. He advanced to
the stair-head, followed by Ethel, who dared not stay behind. Lo! There
was the doctor coming up as coolly as possible, trimming his candle as
he ascended.
"Halloo! What is the row?" he asked, looking up and seeing all the
family assembled on the landing. "What is all this noise' about?
And what in the name of common sense, Emily, made you bolt all the
office doors? I knocked and rung till I was tired, and I had to make a
burglar of myself; and get in at the window after all—so much for your
fastenings, Henry,— and then I thought I should spend the night in the
office. Didn't you hear the bell, Jones?"
"The bell is down, sir! The painters took it down this afternoon. But
who bolted the office door? I didn't!"
"Nor I!" said Emily.
"And I am sure I didn't," said Mrs. Jones. "It must have been Miss
Ethel. I thought I heard her go down-stairs."
Everybody looked at Ethel, whose cheeks were as scarlet as they had
been pale before. Dr. Ray set down his candle, dropped into his chair,
and burst into one of his great hearty laughs, in which he was joined
after a minute by every one of the company.
"Oh, Ethel! Ethel! You will be the death of me," groaned the doctor,
holding his hand to his side. "So you first bolted me out of my own
house, and when I was forced to break into it, you were for treating
me as a burglar. It is a hard case if a man can't break into his own
premises."
"I don't know whether the law would make that burglary or not," said
Mr. Dalton.
"If I am sent to State's prison, Ethel will have to go too as an
accessory before the fact," returned the doctor. "But come, go to bed.
You will all have your deaths of cold, and that will be worse than
robbery. Come, Ethel, never mind. There is no great harm done, and the
joke is worth the trouble." And laughing again, the doctor proceeded
up-stairs to bed.
Ethel retreated to her room, feeling as though she should like to
take to her bed and never leave it again. She was very sensitive to
laughter, especially to Dr. Ray's, who, good-natured as he was, was
a little given to teasing. How soundly she must have slept! A dozen
robbers might have gone over the house without her hearing them.
Heartily ashamed and vexed, she crept into and cried herself to sleep.