Nine Short Stories

I ain’t going to hurt you.”

“You may call me Major Wentworth,” was all the reply he got.

“All right, major. But come, what’s the use–”

“Stop! If you move again like that I’ll shoot. I wonder what’s the matter with Hilda. She sleeps very lightly.” This last to herself.

Bill looked interested.

“Is Hilda a big sort of a woman in a blue nightgown?”

“Yes. Have you seen her” The brown eyes filled with sudden alarm. “Oh! Where is she? Is she hurt?”

“Nope.” Bill chuckled. “Kitchen floor. Chloroform. I was eatin’ strawberry shortcake when she comes in.”

The major frowned.