Now Chet did not want to set the table—­it took him too far from the appetizing aromas in the kitchen.  However, he obeyed grumblingly and was finally rewarded by being given a steaming dish of stew to carry in.

“Chet,” screamed Billie, following him in and checking him just as he was in the act of putting the hot dish on the tablecloth, “put a protector under it.  Don’t you know,” as Chet started and looked reproachfully at her, “that you are apt to ruin the table?  And it’s almost a brand new one at that.”

“Well, you needn’t scare a fellow to death,” grumbled Chet.  “I thought I’d stepped on the cat.”  But he obeyed instructions.

“My! but doesn’t everything look good?” cried Billie, sniffing hungrily.  “Hurry up, Chet, take off your apron and dish up the stew while I pour the coffee.  What do you know about that? I made the coffee.  And doesn’t it smell good?”

It was the jolliest of meals and finished up in royal fashion with the peach pie and whipped cream.

In a very gale of merriment Chet and Billie cleared away the dinner dishes, and then, being tired by the unusual exertion, decided to go early to bed.

For the first part of the night Billie slept soundly, but just as the clock downstairs was striking two, she awakened suddenly and lay still in bed listening.  She was frightened, though she could not have told why.

Rigidly she lay there hardly daring to breathe.

CHAPTER VII

A STRANGE BURGLAR

What was it that had awakened Billie Bradley?

Hardly had the girl asked herself that question when she heard it—­a padding, stealthy, creeping noise that made her clutch the bed clothes and draw them tighter about her.

Then in a panic she realized that whatever it was had started upstairs.

Nearer, nearer came the stealthy padding, till Billie realized it had reached the landing.  Her scalp crept and her hair began to stand on end.  Her door was the nearest to the stairs, and she was all alone in the house with Chet!

Swiftly, she threw off the covers, jumped out of bed, and with her limbs trembling under her, ran to the door and softly turned the key in the lock.

Then she leaned weakly against the door and listened for the noise, but it had stopped.  Evidently the burglar, if burglar it was, had paused to get his bearings.

Then another horrible thought struck her.  Chet was sleeping in the next room, and Chet’s door was unlocked!

On feet that seemed too weak to hold her she crept into Chet’s room—­luckily there was a connecting door between—­and softly turned the key in his door also.

Evidently she was just in time, for as she listened the stealthy noise began again and it was coming toward the very door she had just locked.

She uttered a little involuntary sound, and Chet sat up in bed with a start.