We all deserved the punishment, because the others would have shovelled down snow just as we did if they’d thought of it—only they are not so quick at thinking of things as we are. And even quite wrong things sometimes lead to adventures; as everyone knows who has ever read about pirates or highwaymen.
Eliza hates us to be sent to bed early, because it means her having to bring meals up, and it means lighting the fire in Noël’s room ever so much earlier than usual. He had to have a fire because he still had a bit of a cold. But this particular day we got Eliza into a good temper by giving her a horrid brooch with pretending amethysts in it, that an aunt once gave to Alice, so Eliza brought up an extra scuttle of coals; and when the greengrocer came with the potatoes (he is always late on Saturdays) she got some chestnuts from him. So that when we heard Father go out after his dinner, there was a jolly fire in Noël’s room, and we were able to go in and be Red Indians in blankets most comfortably. Eliza had gone out; she says she gets things cheaper on Saturday nights. She has a great friend, who sells fish at a shop, and he is very generous, and lets her have herrings for less than half the natural price.
So we were all alone in the house; Pincher was out with Eliza, and we talked about robbers. And Dora thought it would be a dreadful trade, but Dicky said—
“I think it would be very interesting. And you would only rob rich people, and be very generous to the poor and needy, like Claude Duval.”
Dora said, “It is wrong to be a robber.”
“Yes,” said Alice, “you would never know a happy hour. Think of trying to sleep with the stolen jewels under your bed, and remembering all the quantities of policemen and detectives that there are in the world!”
“There are ways of being robbers that are not wrong,” said Noël; “if you can rob a robber it is a right act.”
“But you can’t,” said Dora; “he is too clever, and besides, it’s wrong anyway.”
“Yes you can, and it isn’t; and murdering him with boiling oil is a right act, too, so there!” said Noël. “What about Ali Baba? Now then!” And we felt it was a score for Noël.
“What would you do if there was a robber?” said Alice.
H. O. said he would kill him with boiling oil; but Alice explained that she meant a real robber—now—this minute—in the house.
Oswald and Dicky did not say; but Noël said he thought it would only be fair to ask the robber quite politely and quietly to go away, and then if he didn’t you could deal with him.
Now what I am going to tell you is a very strange and wonderful thing, and I hope you will be able to believe it. I should not, if a boy told me, unless I knew him to be a man of honour, and perhaps not then unless he gave his sacred word. But it is true, all the same, and it only shows that the days of romance and daring deeds are not yet at an end.
Alice was just asking Noël how he would deal with the robber who wouldn’t go if he was asked politely and quietly, when we heard a noise downstairs—quite a plain noise, not the kind of noise you fancy you hear. It was like somebody moving a chair. We held our breath and listened and then came another noise, like someone poking a fire. Now, you remember there was no one to poke a fire or move a chair downstairs, because Eliza and Father were both out. They could not have come in without our hearing them, because the front door is as hard to shut as the back one, and whichever you go in by you have to give a slam that you can hear all down the street.
H. O. and Alice and Dora caught hold of each other’s blankets and looked at Dicky and Oswald, and everyone was quite pale. And Noël whispered—
“It’s ghosts, I know it is”—and then we listened again, but there was no more noise. Presently Dora said in a whisper—
“Whatever shall we do? Oh, whatever shall we do—what shall we do?”
And she kept on saying it till we had to tell her to shut up.
O reader, have you ever been playing Red Indians in blankets round a bedroom fire in a house where you thought there was no one
