With that I turns and inspects the windows of the house I'd just passed, knowin' it must be some kid gettin' gay with the passersby. There's no signs of any cut-up concealed behind the lace curtains, though, and none of the sashes was raised. If it hadn't been for the way things had been comin' criss-cross at me, I suppose I'd wiped off my collar and gone along, lettin' it pass as a joke; but I wa'n't feelin' very mirthful just then. I'm ready to follow up anything in the trouble line; so I steps into the area, drops my baggage, shins up over the side of the front steps, and flattens myself against the off side of the vestibule door. Then I waits. It ain't more'n a minute before I hears the door openin' cautious, and all I has to do is shove my foot out and throw my weight against the knob. Somebody lets out a howl of surprise, and in another minute I'm inside, facin' a twelve-year-old kid armed with a green tin squirt gun. He's one of these aristocratic-lookin' youngsters, with silky light hair, big dark eyes, and a sulky mouth. Also he's had somethin' of a scare thrown into him by being caught so unexpected; but some of his nerve is still left. "You--you get out of here!" he snarls. "Not until you've had a dose of what you handed me, sonny," says I. "Give it up now, Reggie boy!" "I won't!" says he. "I--I'll have you thrown out!" "You will, eh?" says I, makin' a rush for him. "O-o-o-oh, Aunty, Aunty!" he squeals, dashin' down the hall. Now, say, the way I was feelin' then, I'd have gone up against a whole fam'ly, big brothers included; so a little thing like a call for Aunty don't stop me at all. As he turns into the room on the left I'm only a jump behind, and all that fetches me up is when he does a dive behind an old lady in a big leather chair. She's a wide, heavy old party, with a dinky white cap on her white hair, and kind of a resigned, patient look on her face. Someway, she acts like she was more or less used to surprises like this; for she don't seem much excited. "Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?" "He--he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind the chair. "Did you?" says the old girl. "Sure," says I. "He's too blamed fresh!" "There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He is only a little boy, you know." "Yes'm," says I. "And he was only indulging in innocent play," she goes on. "Come, Hadley, untie me now. Please, Hadley!" Say, I hadn't noticed it before, but the old girl is roped solid, feet and arms, to the chair legs, and it's clear that when nobody was goin' by for little Hadley to shoot at he'd been usin' Aunty for a target. The damp spots on the wall behind the chair and one or two on her dress showed that. "I won't, unless you'll call Maggie and have her throw him out!" growls Hadley. "Oh, come, Hadley, be a good boy!" coaxes Aunty. "Sha'n't!" says Hadley. "And next time I'll shoot ink at you." "Now, Hadley!" protests Aunty.