Nine Short Stories
"You may call me Major Wentworth," was all the reply he got.
"All right, major. But come, what's the use--"
"Stop! If you move again like that I'll shoot. I wonder what's the matter with Hilda. She sleeps very lightly." This last to herself.
Bill looked interested.
"Is Hilda a big sort of a woman in a blue nightgown?"
"Yes. Hawe you seen her7" The brown eyes filled with sudden alarm. "Oh! Where is she? Is she hurt?"
"Nope." Bill chuckled. "Kitchen floor. Chloroform. I was eatin' strawberry shortcake when she come in."
The major frowned.
"I suppose I must call my father. I hate to disturb him--"
"He's incapable, too," announced Bill with another chuckle. "Tied up with sheets and things. You see, major, we're all alone. Tell you what I'll do. There's a suitcase full of silver down on the library window sill. I'll agree to leave it there--"
"You certainly will," the major nodded. "And you'll leave the other