It seemed to me that I would go mad if I could not get that door open.
Every few seconds I stopped and put my head down to the doorsill to
listen. There was a rushing about inside the room, and a chair fell
over, and some one seemed to be getting out of the window.
This made me worse than ever. I did not stop to think that I was only a
medium-sized dog, and that Jenkins would probably kill me, if he got his
hands on me. I was so furious that I thought only of getting hold of
him.
In the midst of the noise that I made, there was a screaming and a
rushing to and fro upstairs. I ran up and down the hall, and half-way up
the steps and back again. I did not want Miss Laura to come down, but
how was I to make her understand? There she was, in her white gown,
leaning over the railing, and holding back her long hair, her face a
picture of surprise and alarm.
"The dog has gone mad," screamed Miss Bessie. "Nurse, pour a pitcher of
water on him." The nurse was more sensible. She ran downstairs, her
night-cap flying, and a blanket that she had seized from her bed,
trailing behind her. "There are thieves in the house," she shouted at
the top of her voice, "and the dog has found it out.
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