Part 7 (1/2)

”I saw you were very much interested,” remarked Mrs. Ismond.

”Interested!” repeated Frank with vim, unable to control his restless spirit and getting up and pacing the room to and fro--”I am simply wild to go deeper into this mail order business. Why, it looks plain as day to me--the way to begin it--the way to exploit it--the way to make a great big success of it. He says that little metal novelties of the household kind take the best. I was just thinking: there's a hardware novelties factory right on the spot at Pleasantville, and--Down, Christmas, down!”

The dog had interrupted Frank with a low growl. Then, before Frank could deter him, the animal flew at the open window of the sitting-room.

Frank seized Christmas by the collar, just as the animal was aiming to leap clear through it to the garden outside.

”Why, what is the matter, Christmas?” spoke Mrs. Ismond, arising to her feet in some surprise.

Just then a frightful shriek rang out from under the open window, accompanied by the frantic words:

”Help, murder, help--I'm nearly killed!”

CHAPTER VI

”MAIL ORDER FRANK”

At the outcry from beyond the window of the little sitting-room, the dog, Christmas, became fairly frantic. Seizing him by the collar, however, Frank gave him a stern word. Wont to obey, the animal retreated to one side of the room, but still growling, and his fur bristling.

Frank instantly caught up the lamp from the table and carried it to the window. His mother peered out in a startled way at the scene now illuminated without.

”Why, it is Mr. Dorsett!” she exclaimed.

”As I expected,” said Frank, quietly.

”Frank,” murmured his mother, anxiously, ”what have you been doing?”

”Preparing for eavesdroppers--and sneaks. Caught one first set of the trap, it seems,” responded Frank in clear, loud tones.

The captured lurker was indeed Dorsett. He was panting and infuriated.

One foot was held imprisoned in a wooden spring clamp chained to a log in a hole in the ground. This aperture had been covered with light pieces of sod which Dorsett was pus.h.i.+ng aside with his cane, while he continued to groan with pain.

The lamplight enabled him to discern more clearly the trap that had caught him. He managed to pull one side of the contrivance loose and got his foot free.

Wincing with pain and limping, he came closer to the window, boiling with rage.

”So you did it, and boast of it, do you?” he howled at Frank.

”I did and do,” answered Frank calmly. ”This is our home, Mr. Dorsett, not a public highway.”

Dorsett uttered a terrific snort of rage. He brandished his cane, struck out with it, and its end went through the panes of both the upper and the raised lower sash.

Frank receded a step, unhurt, with the words:

”Very well. You will pay for that damage, I suppose you know. You will get no further rent until you repair it.”

”Rent!” roared the frenzied Dorsett. ”You'll never pay me rent again.

I'll show you. Tenants at will, ha! Can't stroll around my own property, hey? Why, I'll--I'll crush you.”