"
"You didn't say how you got scared," remarked aunt Corinne, sitting
straight in one of the yellow chairs to impress upon her mind the
image of this heroine of the road.
"Well, it was robbers," confessed the toll-woman, "breakin' into the
house, that scared me."
Robbers! Aunt Corinne's nephew mentally saw a cavern in one of the
neighboring hills, and men in scarlet cloaks and feathers lurking
among the bushes. If there is any word sweeter to the young male ear
than Indian or Tagger, it is robbers.
"Are there many robbers around here?" he inquired, fixing intent
eyes on the toll-woman.
"There used to be plenty of horse-thieves, and is, yet," she replied.
"They've come huntin' them from away over in Illinois. I remember that
year the milk-sick was so bad there was more horse-thieves than we've
ever heard of since."
"But they ain't true robbers, are they?" said aunt Corinne's nephew
in some disgust, his scarlet bandits paling.
"Not the kind that come tryin' the house when I got scared,"
admitted the toll-woman.
"And did they get in?" exclaimed Robert Day's aunt.
"I don't like to think about it yet," remarked the toll-woman,
cooling her tea and intent on enjoying her own story.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199