A comical thing to do in a situation of deadly peril, was it not?
But it seemed quite natural and proper at the time.
All this while the blows were falling faster and faster on the door.
They were dealt, as I conjectured, with heavy stones picked up from the ground outside.

Jerry sang at his wicked work, and Shifty Dick swore.

As I left the bedroom after putting the cat under cover, I heard the lower panel of the door begin to crack.
I ran into the kitchen and huddled our four silver spoons into my pocket; then took the unlucky book with the bank-notes and put it in the bosom of my dress.

I was determined to defend the property confided to my care with my life.

Just as I had secured the pocketbook I heard the door splintering, and rushed into the passage again with my heavy kitchen poker lifted in both hands.
I was in time to see the bald head of Jerry, with the ugly-looking knobs on it, pushed into the passage through a great rent in one of the lower panels of the door.
"Get out, you villain, or I'll brain you on the spot!" I screeched, threatening him with the poker.
Mr.Jerry took his head out again much faster than he put it in.
The next thing that came through the rent was a long pitchfork, which they darted at me from the outside, to move me from the door.