Then I knew what it meant, and a flush of angry indignation came into my cheeks.
"Boys after our pears!" I said to myself as my fists clenched.

For I had become so thoroughly at home at Old Brownsmith's that everything seemed to belong to me, and I felt it was my duty to defend it.
I listened to make sure, and heard a lot of whispering going on as the marauders crossed the path I was on, rustled by amongst the gooseberry bushes, and went farther into the garden.
"They're after the _Marie Louise_ pears," I thought; and I was about to run and shout at them, for I knew that would startle them away; but on second thoughts I felt as if I should like to catch some of them, and turning, I ran softly back up the path, meaning to tell Mr Brownsmith.
But before I had reached the end of the path another idea had occurred to me.

Old Brownsmith would not be able to catch one of the boys, but Shock would if he was up in the loft, and in the hope that he was sleeping there I ran to the foot of the steps, scrambled up, and pushing back the door, which was only secured with a big wooden latch, I crept in as cautiously as I could.
"Shock!" I whispered.

"Shock! Are you here ?" I listened, but there was not a sound.
"Shock!" I whispered again.

"Shock!" "If ver don't go I'll heave the hay-fork at yer," came in a low angry voice.
"No, no: don't," I said.