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The doorbell buzzed. "That's the detective," said Dr. Surtaine to Hal. "Stay here." He wormed himself painfully into an overcoat which concealed his scarified shoulder, and went out. In a few moments he and the officer reappeared. The latter glanced at the body. "Heart disease, you say?" he asked. "Yes: valvular lesion." "Better 'phone the coroner's office, eh?" "Not necessary.
If he went now, he would be like a boy who makes a runaway ring at the doorbell. Until he should receive formal notice of dismissal, he must stay, although every day had forty-eight hours and every hour twice its complement of weary minutes.
There is the doorbell! Hannah will let somebody in before I can fly down and tell her to excuse me. How stupid of people not to know that my Bishop has come! Oh dear! it is Mrs. Cartney, and she has come for the aprons I promised to make for the Asylum children, and they have not been touched! Yes, Hannah, I am coming. Why didn't you say I was engaged with my son?"
He began to consult this list and the pile of letters from subscribers that the magazine had sent him, when the doorbell rang. Perhaps it was a patient, the good patient whom he had expected for four years. He left his desk to open the door. It was his coal man, who came with his bill. "I will stop some day when I am near you," Saniel said. "I am in a hurry this evening."
It was the front doorbell, and it meant the arrival of the engines. "Oh!" thought I, "what shall I do now? If I run out I shall encounter half the neighborhood in the back yard; if I stay here how shall I be able to meet the faces of the firemen who will come rushing in?" But I was not destined to suffer from either contingency.
"Did you bring us something?" said Meg and Bobby together, each holding out a hand for overshoes. Mother Blossom gave hers to Bobby, and Aunt Polly handed hers to Meg, to be put away in the hall closet under the stairs. Just as Meg closed the door of the closet the doorbell rang. "There's the boy now," announced Mother Blossom. "He's bringing you the something nice I promised."
Patty had to laugh at his foolishness, but the dogs WERE fierce, and she was glad when at last his repeated rings at the doorbell were answered. "Nobody at home," said a voice, as the door opened only a narrow crack, and but part of a face could be seen. "Is that so?" said Bill, pleasantly. "But you're at home, aren't you? And perhaps you're the very one I want to see. Are you Mrs. O'Brien?"
The pretty little notes of invitation, which Mother Morrison had written to six boys and six girls, friends of Brother's and Sister's, two weeks ago, had said from "four to six," so it was time to dress in the best white clothes soon after lunch. Indeed, Brother's collar bow was not tied before the doorbell rang, and Nellie Yarrow arrived.
Baxter, raising the shades which had been drawn, since night had fallen. "And not far away," said Tom, as he caught the reflection of a red gleam in the sky. There was a ring at the front doorbell, and almost at once Ned Newton's voice called: "Tom! Tom Swift! There's quite a fire in town! Don't you want to try your new apparatus on it?" "The very chance!" exclaimed the young inventor.
True, also, disgruntled tradesmen no longer rang peremptory peals on the doorbell, and the postman's load of bills on the first of the month was perceptibly decreased. The dinner-table, too, bore evidence that a scanty purse no longer controlled the larder, but no new china or cut-glass graced the board, and Susan's longed-for bouillon spoons had never materialized.
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