How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on,
just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things
hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides
burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood,
after all!"

This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a
smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those
motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work.

Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she
might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a
rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing
hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again.

The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early,
after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that
all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after
she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay
down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to
another,--to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a
week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward
self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the
shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l
Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars.

Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to
the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he--he knew what
he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be
in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some