You know poor Charlie was at that moment
lying curled up under the bed in the boys' room with a roll of carpet
a foot thick around him, and it was as hot as an oven. Well, they insisted
on going through the house, and I let them go all through the lower stories;
but when they started up the staircase I was ready for them.
I had always kept, you know, one of papa's old horse-pistols as a protection.
Of course, it was not loaded. I would not have had it loaded
for anything in the world. I always kept it safely locked up,
and I was dreadfully afraid of it even then. But you have no idea what a
moral support it gave me, and I used to unlock the drawer every afternoon
to see if it was still there all right, and then lock it again,
and put the key away carefully. Well, as it happened, I had just been
looking at it -- which I called `inspecting my garrison'. I used to feel
just like Lady Margaret in Tillietudlam Castle. Well, I had just been
looking at it that afternoon when I heard the Yankees were coming,
and by a sudden inspiration -- I cannot tell for my life how I did it --
I seized the pistol, and hid it under my apron. I held on to it
with both hands, I was so afraid of it, and all the time those wretches
were going through the rooms down-stairs I was quaking with terror.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41