Beware of Burglars!

Dominion, Volume 31, Issue 278, 20 August 1938, Page 9 (Supplement)

Beware of Burglars!

(Written for the page by Princess Celandine (ft), Murton.

"fjLAIRE, you really are a baby! It's only a picture; no one's going to , hurt you,” said Margaret crossly. Poor terrified Claire was clutching her sister’s arm in the seat beside her. David, Margaret and Claire were all at a picture matinee. It was a most exciting film ... a burglar had just entered the window of the room where the heroine was sleeping. He looked about him and crept over to the bed. Claire gave a wild scream and clutched Margaret’s arm still tighter. "Claire!” exclaimed Margaret indignantly, “You big baby! Making all that fuss about a picture.” “I can’t help it,” sobbed Claire. "I’m so frightened. I want to go home.” And she got up and walked out of the theatre. “What will they think of me?” thought Claire miserably as she walked in the gathering dusk, “And David will never speak to me again.” And she started to cry again. Half an hour later Margaret and David walked in: neither of them said a word to Claire, but walked straight past her with their noses in the air. This, thought Claire, was the last straw! And. bursting into tears again, she ran upstairs to her bedroom. “What can I do?” she thought desperately, “so that they won’t think I'm such a baby. They don’t seem to realise that I'm three years younger than they are . . . there’s such a difference between nine and twelve . . .

now if I had a twin . . and she sobbed again. After a few minutes, she went over to the window to watch the stars come out. She looked down. . . What was that? Someone was creeping on all fours toward the dining-room window. Who could it be? A burglar? Oh, how awful, what could she do? Her hands began to shake and her heart was thumping so hard inside her that she could hardly breathe. There he was, still creeping along by the wall. Now she lost sight of him as. he went round the corner of the house. She must run down and tell the family. Half-way down the stairs Claire had an idea —an idea which made her stop short and hold her breath. Why tell the family, why not go downstairs and stop the burglar? What'a splendid notion! Then Margaret and David wouldn’t be able to call her “baby” any more, because she -would have done something much bigger and braver than they had ever attempted What would be the best thing to do? Either go down to the diningroom and wait against the wall by the window and hit him on the head as he came in or go outside and creep up behind him? She thought the first idea was better. So, stealthily and on tip toes, she crept through the door. What would be the best thing to hit him with? In story books they always used the poker, so, obviously that would be the best tool. With poker in hand she waited by the curtain. She was only just in time, for there, silhouetted against the window, was the head of a man. A cold shiver ran through her body and'her hands felt stiff and clammy. But she must see it through now no matter how frightened she was. She raised the poker above her head —Waiting. The head was slowly rising over the window-sill accompanied by a neck and shoulders. Then with a silent heave he was kneeling on the window-seat with his head thrust forward. Now was the moment. . . Claire shut her eyes and brought down the poker. A scream rang out and someone fell forward on the floor with a crash! There was a sound of running footsteps as the family ran into the dining-room to see what had happened. Father turned on the light and there on the floor lay Ted Anderson, the boy from next door, completely dazed. Claire bent over him with a look of incredulous horror on her face as it dawned on her what she had done. "Gracious!” exclaimed father in amazement, “Claire, what have you done?” Ted groaned and opened his eyes. “I . . . Oh !” as he realised that he had been caught red-handed. “I want an explanation of this, young man.” “It certainly does need a little explaining.” said mother as she bathed the victim's head with cold water. “Ted, lying in front of the window, and Claire standing there trembling with the poker in her hand.” “I, well I . ..” floundered Claire, recovering herself. “I was in my room . . .” and she told them how she wanted to do something big, so that the others wouldn’t call her a baby any more. “I see,” said father grimly. “Now, Ted, how is it that you came in through the window, instead of the usual way?” “Well.” said Ted and gulped. “I wanted David’s prep, book and he wouldn’t let me have it when I asked him, so I thought I’d take it. That’s all. I came in at the dining-room window, ’cos I thought no one would see me and I got hit on the head.” “Don't ever let this happen again . . .” and father gave him a severe scolding. “And I think, David, you might lend the book to Ted so that he will know what homework to do. Ted may stay for tea If he would like to.” “Thank you so much and I promise that I’ll never do it again. And I think it was very brave of Claire to—to—er —stop the—the burglar.” “Hear, hear!” cried all the others.