All at once I stopped short, for I heard a peculiar scratching noise and
a whispering, and, though I could hardly distinguish anything, I was
perfectly sure that somebody had climbed to the top of the wall, and was
sitting there with a leg over our side, for I heard it rustling amongst
the plum boughs.
"It's all right," was whispered; and then there was more scuffling, and
it seemed to me that some one else had climbed up.
Then another and another, and then they seemed to pull up another one,
so that I believed there were five people on the wall.
Then came some whispering, and I felt sure that they were boys, for one
said: "Now, then, all together!" in a boyish voice, when there was a lot of
rustling and scratching, and I could hear the plum-tree branches trained
to the wall torn down, one breaking right off, as the intruders dropped
over into our garden.
For the moment I was puzzled. Then I knew what it meant, and a flush of
angry indignation came into my cheeks.
"Boys after our pears!" I said to myself as my fists clenched. For I
had become so thoroughly at home at Old Brownsmith's that everything
seemed to belong to me, and I felt it was my duty to defend it.
I listened to make sure, and heard a lot of whispering going on as the
marauders crossed the path I was on, rustled by amongst the gooseberry
bushes, and went farther into the garden.
"They're after the Marie Louise pears," I thought; and I was about to
run and shout at them, for I knew that would startle them away; but on
second thoughts I felt as if I should like to catch some of them, and
turning, I ran softly back up the path, meaning to tell Mr Brownsmith.
But before I had reached the end of the path another idea had occurred
to me. Old Brownsmith would not be able to catch one of the boys, but
Shock would if he was up in the loft, and in the hope that he was
sleeping there I ran to the foot of the steps, scrambled up, and pushing
back the door, which was only secured with a big wooden latch, I crept
in as cautiously as I could.
"Shock!" I whispered. "Shock! Are you here?"
I listened, but there was not a sound.
"Shock!" I whispered again. "Shock!"
"If ver don't go I'll heave the hay-fork at yer," came in a low angry
voice.
"No, no: don't," I said. "I want you. Come on, and bring a big stick:
there's some boys stealing the pears."
There was a rustle and a scramble, and Shock was by my side, more full
of life and excitement than I had ever noticed him before.