o, children," said she, with a sudden show of courage.
"Keep a stiff upper lip! I've got an idea! It may be flesh and blood
thieves come after the doctor's chany tea-cups!"

"O, throw them out the window," gasped Mary.

"No, Polly; not while I'm a live woman," replied Siller, who really had
some sense when she could forget her fear of hobgoblins. "Into the
hampshire, both of you, and let me button you in."

The "hampshire" was a large cupboard, the lower part of which was half
filled with boxes and buckets; but the children contrived to squeeze
themselves into it.

"It isn't fair, though," said Mary, putting her head out. "I ought to
help you, Siller. Give me the shovel and tongs, and I will."

Siller only answered by buttoning the hampshire door.

Patty, feeling safer, screamed "Fief!" once more; and Mary gave her a
shaking, which caused the child to bite her tongue; after which Mary
hugged and kissed her with the deepest remorse.

Who knew how long either of them had to live? What if the man should
break down the kitchen door and get into the house? He was knocking
harder than ever, and had been calling out several times,--

"Let me in! Why don't you let me in?"

"There, I do declare, that sounds like Dr. Hilton," whispered Mary to
Patty.

And sure enough, next moment the voice of Siller was heard exclaiming,
in the utmost surprise,--

"Bless me, doctor, you don't mean to say that's _you_!"

It was the most welcome sound that the little prisoners in the
"hampshire" could possibly have heard. And the laugh, gruff and cracked,
which came from the doctor's throat, as soon as he got fairly into the
house, was sweeter than the song of a nightingale.

"Let us out! Let us out!" cried they, knocking to be let out as hard as
the doctor had knocked to be let in, for Mary was beating the door with
a bucket of sugar and Patty with a pewter porringer. But Siller was "all
of a fluster," and it was the doctor himself who opened the hampshire
doors after the little girls had almost pounded them down.

They were both ashamed to be caught in their night-dresses, and ran up
stairs as fast as they could go, but on the way overheard the doctor
reproving Siller for giving "those innocent little children such a
scare." He was not a wise man, by any means, but he had good common
sense.

"It is lucky my wife don't believe in witches," said he, "for I'm as
likely to come home late at night as any way, and she'd be in hot wate