Then crouching low they peered forth at the
sight which could be seen in the dim light.
On the highest step of the rear piazza of his house stood Mr. Whitaker,
the minister of Coventry Center. He was a man at least sixty-five years
of age, genial and shrewd, the friend of every one in the region. On the
ground before him now five men could be seen and neither Will nor Hawley
had any difficulty in recognizing all five as sophomores. Will pinched
Hawley's arm in his excitement, but did not speak, though it almost
seemed to him that the thumpings of his heart must betray his presence
to the men who were before him.
Mr. Whitaker was speaking and instantly Will's attention was centered
upon what was being said. "No, young gentlemen, I am not willing that
you should enter my house."
"But, Mr. Whitaker," said one in reply whom Will took to be a sophomore
who roomed near him in Perry Hall, "we don't want to come into the
house--just into the woodshed, that's all."
"I cannot consent even to that."
"We'll not harm anything."
"You certainly will not if you do not enter."
"We've got to come in, Mr. Whitaker!" said the speaker a little more
boldly.
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