poor toads!"

The thought of Huldah, and the desire not to be mixed up in the
affair, sent him home and to bed, to be out of the way. So he went
to sleep, and tried to forget what he had done, and his three florins
remained untouched in his pocket until morning.

In the meantime Tom Smith had made his way stealthily down the lane
until he reached the little cottage. At the gate he stopped, and
peering about him, listened for a time, while he tried to plan what
his first move should be. Should he be civil and friendly, or should
he just go in and frighten them all? As he stood there debating he
looked like some mean beast of prey, waiting to spring on his victim.
A cheerful light shone out of one of the little windows, and in the
stillness of the night the sound of voices reached him. One he
recognised at once as Huldah's. A savoury smell of cooking was
wafted out to him, and roused him to greater anger.

"That little hussy is a-selling of her baskets, I'll be bound, and
she and the old woman live on the fat of the land with the money that
they bring. My baskets, I calls 'em. It's sheer thieving! A fine
old yarn she'll have told, too, and a nice character she'll have
give'd me, ugh, the little--"

A ripple of laughter sounded through the silence. To him it seemed
as though Huldah were mocking him. Hesitating no longer, he strode
up the path and knocked heavily on the door. Instantly the voices
and the laughter ceased. There was a spring at the door and a growl.
Dick had scented the enemy! Then after a moment's pause a voice
asked timidly, "Who is there?"