"Oh, Cassie, there is one of them down-stairs!" came in a whisper. "What _do_ you mean, Rose Bostwick? A _ghost_ down-stairs!" "No--no--a tramp." "Whew!" and Cassie gave a low whistle. "And I suppose you're scared?" "Oh, Cassie, I feel as if I were choking! Do hurry down, he may be killing poor little Florence and the baby. What shall we do? The baby has told him we are all alone." "The baby ought to be soundly spanked for that." "What _can_ we do? Try to think." Cassie sat swinging the button-hook in her hand and thinking very hard and fast. "Does he know I'm here?" "Yes, I've told him." "Then it would be no use for me to pretend to be Ned," thinking aloud. "I'm afraid not." Another silence dedicated to thought. "Rose?" "Yes." "I'm going to be crazy. I'm going to chase him off the farm." "Oh, Cassie, you _can't_! He's a great, big, impudent wretch. What folly to talk about chasing him off the farm!" "It's our only chance." "Don't count on me. _I_ can't help you. My teeth are chattering with terror, and my legs are doubling up under me this very minute. I couldn't help chase a fly." "You can scream, I s'pose?" "Oh, yes, I can do that." "Well, you do the screaming and I'll do the chasing. Rush down-stairs and scream and scream, and bang the door to, and just shriek: 'She's out--she's out--she's coming down stairs!' And you'll see what a perfectly beautiful lunatic I will be. It's a good thing I have this old dress on, and only one shoe. Now make a rush, and scream." Rose's over-strained nerves were her best allies, and as she flew down the stairs it was the easiest thing in the world for her to give one piercing shriek after another. They resounded from the narrow stairway through the kitchen, and for the moment seemed to paralyze its inmates. As she burst in upon them, Florence was transfixed midway of the table and the stove with the platter of ham in her hands, the baby had climbed upon a chair, and the tramp had arisen with a bewildered air from the table. As her skirts cleared the door, she turned and dashed it shut, and flung herself against it, shrieking, "She's out--she's out of her room!" To the mystified Florence there came but one solution to her behavior--fright had overthrown her sister's reason, and with a wail she rushed toward her, crying, "She's crazy! Oh, she's crazy!" "Who's crazy?" yelled the tramp. The baby, now wildly terrified, set up a loud weeping, while from the stairway came a succession of blows and angry demands that the door be opened. A moment later it was forced ajar, and a head crowned with a mass of tossed hair was thrust out and quickly followed by a hand in which was clutched a gun. "She's got the gun! Oh, Florence, run to the baby!" cried Rose. "Who's that?" demanded the apparition, making a rush toward the tramp. "Here, keep off! Leave me alone!" backing away and warding off an expected blow. She stood before him, tall, strong, and agile.