door, and, as it
opened, she said in a loud and exultant voice, "You're all safe now; the
man's gone."

"Now run," she said, in a lower voice.

The boy dashed out of the doorway, but Mrs. McGuire remained standing
there. She was not much surprised to see Pietro run out from the
other side of the house, and prepare to chase the runaway. But quickly
perceiving that he was mistaken, he checked his steps, and turning, saw
Mrs. McGuire with a triumphant smile on her face.

"Why don't you run?" she said. "You can catch him."

"It isn't my brother," he answered, sullenly.

"I thought you was gone," she said.

"I am waiting for my brother."

"Thin you'll have to wait. You wanted to chate me, you haythen! But
Bridget McGuire ain't to be took in by such as you. You'd better lave
before my man comes home from his work, or he'll give you lave of
absence wid a kick."

Without waiting for an answer, Bridget shut the door, and bolted
it--leaving her enemy routed at all points.

In fact Pietro began to lose courage. He saw that he had a determined
foe to contend with. He had been foiled thus far in every effort to
obtain possession of Phil. But the more difficult the enterprise seemed,
the more anxious he became to carry it out successfully. He knew that
the padrone would not give him a very cordial reception if he returned
without Phil, especially as he would be compelled to admit that he had
seen him, and had nevertheless failed to secure him. His uncle would
not be able to appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but would
consider him in fault. For this reason he did not like to give up
the siege, though he saw little hopes of accomplishing his object. At
length, however, he was obliged to raise the siege, but from a cause
with which neither Phil nor his defender had anything to do.

The sky, which had till this time been clear, suddenly darkened. In ten
minutes rain began to fall in large drops. A sudden shower, unusual
at this time of the year, came up, and pedestrians everywhere, caught
without umbrellas, fled panic-stricken to the nearest shelter. Twice
before, as we know, Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water.
This, though colder, was even more formidable. Vanquished by the forces
of nature, Pietro shouldered his instrument and fled incontinently. Phil
might come out now, if he chose. His enemy had deserted his post, and
the coast was clear.

"That'll make the haythen lave," thought Mrs. McGuire, w