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Updated: May 22, 2025
I guess they will stand it," said Aunt Stanshy, as she reached the lower floor and caught a glimpse of the fodder-box. It was the British spy, whose stout pedestals were sticking out, and he only needed to be once more seized and dragged forward by Juggie and the other "continentals" to give proof of his vigorous, embalmed condition. "Sakes, boy!" said Aunt Stanshy.
The next moment all heard an ominous descent from the second to the first story. "Massy!" shouted Aunt Stanshy. "Somebody has gone down that fodder-box agin!" She rushed down stairs, followed by the "British army," and all the members of the Up-the Ladder Club that could move one leg before the other. "I know those legs!
You see, Silas Trefethen wanted to hire my barn last winter, and thought he would put in what he called a fodder-box running down from the closet above to this floor, and then intended to knock the closet away when he had carried the box down here, thinking he might save some steps that way, but he was taken sick and the closet was left there; and that closet floor, I suppose, wasn't left just right."
Let me out quick!" It was even so. Wort must be let out. "O, Aunt Stanshy, Wort Wort is in the fodder-box, and can't get out!" shrieked Charlie at the open kitchen window. "What under the sun " And, without a word more, Aunt Stanshy left the clothes she was washing and rushed into the yard.
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