Peter went off to his family, while Ambrose closed the door of his own little shack behind him, with a long breath of relief.
Feeling as he did, it was torture to be obliged to support the gaze of another's eye, however kindly.

So urgent was his need to be alone that he even turned his back on his dog.

For a long time the poor beast softly scratched and whined at the closed door unheeded.
Ambrose was busy inside.

As it began to grow dark he lit his lamp and carefully pinned a heavy shirt inside his window in lieu of a blind.
Since Peter and his family went to bed with the sun it would be hard to say whom he feared might spy on him.

One listening at the door might well have wondered what the activity inside portended.
Later Ambrose opened the door and, putting the dog in, proceeded cautiously to the store.