"Metropolis!" cried Tim. "I see an eye!"
Some one was looking through the keyhole at them.
"An eye!" exclaimed several voices in a hushed, expectant tone.
There was a pause, during which every one looked at every one else.
"It's probably a tramp," said Uncle Felix gravely. "We'll let him in."
The proposal, however, alarmed them, for they had expected something
very different. To stuff the keyhole, run away and hide, or at least
to barricade the fence was what he ought to have advised. Instead of
this they heard the very opposite. The excitement became intense. For
them a tramp meant danger, robbery with violence, intoxication, awful
dirt, and an under-the-bed-at-midnight kind of terror. It was so long
since they had seen the tramp--their own tramp--that they had
forgotten his existence.
"They'll kill us at once," said Maria, using the plural with the
comprehensive and anticipatory vision of the child.
"They're harmless as white mice," said her Uncle quickly, "once you
know how to treat them, and full of adventures too. I do," he added
with decision, referring to the treatment. And he stepped down to
unbar the gate.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130