Santa seemed to be
even more alarmed than the youngster. He glanced wildly about the room
and, as another creak came from the stairs, darted into the dining-room.
For a minute or more nothing happened. Then the door leading to the
front hall, the door which had been standing ajar, opened cautiously and
Mrs. Barnes' head protruded beyond its edge. She looked about the room;
then she entered. Emily Howes followed. Both ladies wore wrappers now,
and Thankful's hand clutched an umbrella, the only weapon available,
which she had snatched from the hall rack as she passed it. She advanced
to the center table.
"Who's here?" she demanded firmly. "Who lit this lamp? Georgie! Georgie
Hobbs, we know you're here somewhere, for we heard you. Show yourself
this instant."
Silence--then Emily seized her cousin's arm and pointed. A small bare
foot protruded from beneath the sofa fringe. Thankful marched to the
sofa and, stooping, grasped the ankle above the foot.
"Georgie Hobbs," she ordered, "come out from under this sofa."
Georgie came, partly of his own volition, partly because of the
persuasive tug at his ankle.
"Now, then," ordered Thankful; "what are you doin' down here? Answer
me."
Georgie did not answer. He marked a circle on the floor with his toe.
"What are you doin' down here?" repeated Mrs. Barnes. "Did you light
that lamp?"
"No'm," replied Georgie.
"Of course he didn't, Auntie," whispered Emily. "There was someone here
with him.
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