"'y gosh!" faltered he. "Sure as Christmas! You wait here, Eva, till I
go upstairs an' put on my badge and I'll--"

"I'll do nothing of the kind. You don't ketch me stayin' down here
alone," and she grabbed the back of his nightshirt as he started for the
stairs.

"Sho! What air you afeerd of? I'll get my revolver, too. I never did see
such a coward'y calf as--"

Just then there was a tremendous pounding on the front door, followed by
the creaking of footsteps on the frozen porch, a clatter down the steps,
and then the same old howling of the wind. The Crows jumped almost out
of their scanty garments, and then settled down as if frozen to the
spot. It was a full minute before Anderson found his voice--in advance
of Mrs. Crow at that, which was more than marvellous.

"What was that?" he chattered.

"A knock!" she gasped.

"Some neighbour's sick."

"Old Mrs. Luce. Oh, goodness, how my heart's going!"

"Why don't you open the door, Eva?"

"Why don't you? It's your place."