"Give it a pull, I tell you! I don't know who lives here and I don't
care. If 'twas the President of the United States he'd have to turn out
and let us in this night. Here, let me do it!"

She gave the glass knob a sharp jerk. From within sounded the jingle of
an old-fashioned spring bell.

"There!" she exclaimed, "I guess they'll hear that. Anyway, I'll give
'em one more for good measure."

She jerked the bell again. The peal died away in a series of lessening
tinkles, but there was no other sound from within.

"They must be sound sleepers," whispered Emily, after a moment.

"They must be dead," declared Thankful. "There's been smashin' and
crackin' and hollerin' enough to wake up anybody that wa'n't buried. How
that wind does blow! I--Hello! here comes that man at last. About time,
I should say!"

Winnie S. appeared, bearing the lantern.

"What you doin'?" he asked. "There ain't no use ringin' that bell.
Nobody'll hear it."

Thankful, who had just given the bell a third pull, took her hand from
the knob.

"Why not?" she demanded. "It makes noise enough. I should think a graven
image would hear it. What is this, a home for deaf people?"