on them?”
“I hate to tell you, but I’ve never used judo on a dog,” George said. “And I don’t think I want to try now.”
The girls were almost over the wall when they noticed that the dogs weren’t barking anymore. Nancy looked over her shoulder, and what she saw made her laugh. “Bess,” she said, “your lunch may have saved our lives.”
In the rush to get over the wall, Bess’s leather bag had fallen and the sandwiches had spilled to the ground. The two dogs were now feasting on chicken, totally ignoring the terrified girls.
“I’m glad it’s chicken and not us,” Bess commented. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Wait a second,” George said. “Look at the dogs. They’re not acting so mad anymore, are they?”
Finished eating, the dogs now stood looking up at the girls, panting and licking their lips. One of them sniffed the empty bag, looked up again, and wagged its stump of a tail.
“What a couple of fakers!” Nancy said. “They aren’t really attack dogs—they’re just here to scare people away.”
“And they do a great job,” Bess remarked. “Come on, you guys, let’s go.”
But Nancy had already started climbing back down the wall, talking softly and holding out the back side of her hand for the dogs to sniff. “It’s okay,” she called to the other two. “They’re not going to have us for dessert.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Bess said. But she followed George back down the wall and cautiously patted one of the dogs on the head. “The next time, I’ll bring steak,” she told the dog. It whined. “Uh-oh,” she said. “I think he knows that word.”
“Okay, let’s go to the house,” Nancy said. “These dogs might start barking again if they realize we’re empty-handed.”
Trailed by the dogs, Nancy, Bess, and George walked across the grounds until they came to the main door of Harrington House. It was huge, with brass hinges and a brass lion’s-head knocker.
“I’m surprised there isn’t an armed guard,” George remarked. “This place looks like a fortress.”
“I get the feeling I won’t be able to break into this door very easily,” Nancy agreed. “I might as well knock.”
Nancy slammed the knocker three times. As she was raising it for the fourth time, the door was pulled open by a young man. Wearing faded jeans and a blue sweatshirt, he looked worried and busy, but he definitely didn’t look threatening.
When he saw the girls, his frown disappeared. “Oh, great!” he said. “I was afraid you’d never get here.”
“So were we,” Bess told him.
“Well, come on in,” he said, waving the manila folder he was holding. “I’ll show you what to do.”
As they followed him across a marble-floored entry hall the size of Nancy’s living room, George whispered, “Who do you suppose he thinks we are?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy whispered back. “Let’s play along and find out.”
“Good idea,” Bess said. “He’s really cute.”
The young man led them down another narrower hall and into a large room, whose walls were lined with books. Leather armchairs had been moved aside, and in the middle of the room was a long wooden table piled with papers and boxes of envelopes.
“There are coffee and doughnuts over there,” he said, pointing to a smaller table by the fireplace. “So get comfortable and start stuffing.”
“Start what?” Bess asked.
“Stuffing,” he said. “You’re volunteers, right? You’re here to stuff campaign flyers?”
“That’s right,” Nancy said quickly.
“Good. My name’s Barry, by the way,” he told her. “I’m in charge until Todd and his manager get back. So if you have any questions, just ask. I’ll be in the next room—that’s where the phones are.”
When Barry left the room, Nancy burst out laughing. “Sorry, you guys. If we stay here longenough, I’ll figure out a way to get into that tower. I hope you don’t mind stuffing a few
“I hate to tell you, but I’ve never used judo on a dog,” George said. “And I don’t think I want to try now.”
The girls were almost over the wall when they noticed that the dogs weren’t barking anymore. Nancy looked over her shoulder, and what she saw made her laugh. “Bess,” she said, “your lunch may have saved our lives.”
In the rush to get over the wall, Bess’s leather bag had fallen and the sandwiches had spilled to the ground. The two dogs were now feasting on chicken, totally ignoring the terrified girls.
“I’m glad it’s chicken and not us,” Bess commented. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Wait a second,” George said. “Look at the dogs. They’re not acting so mad anymore, are they?”
Finished eating, the dogs now stood looking up at the girls, panting and licking their lips. One of them sniffed the empty bag, looked up again, and wagged its stump of a tail.
“What a couple of fakers!” Nancy said. “They aren’t really attack dogs—they’re just here to scare people away.”
“And they do a great job,” Bess remarked. “Come on, you guys, let’s go.”
But Nancy had already started climbing back down the wall, talking softly and holding out the back side of her hand for the dogs to sniff. “It’s okay,” she called to the other two. “They’re not going to have us for dessert.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Bess said. But she followed George back down the wall and cautiously patted one of the dogs on the head. “The next time, I’ll bring steak,” she told the dog. It whined. “Uh-oh,” she said. “I think he knows that word.”
“Okay, let’s go to the house,” Nancy said. “These dogs might start barking again if they realize we’re empty-handed.”
Trailed by the dogs, Nancy, Bess, and George walked across the grounds until they came to the main door of Harrington House. It was huge, with brass hinges and a brass lion’s-head knocker.
“I’m surprised there isn’t an armed guard,” George remarked. “This place looks like a fortress.”
“I get the feeling I won’t be able to break into this door very easily,” Nancy agreed. “I might as well knock.”
Nancy slammed the knocker three times. As she was raising it for the fourth time, the door was pulled open by a young man. Wearing faded jeans and a blue sweatshirt, he looked worried and busy, but he definitely didn’t look threatening.
When he saw the girls, his frown disappeared. “Oh, great!” he said. “I was afraid you’d never get here.”
“So were we,” Bess told him.
“Well, come on in,” he said, waving the manila folder he was holding. “I’ll show you what to do.”
As they followed him across a marble-floored entry hall the size of Nancy’s living room, George whispered, “Who do you suppose he thinks we are?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy whispered back. “Let’s play along and find out.”
“Good idea,” Bess said. “He’s really cute.”
The young man led them down another narrower hall and into a large room, whose walls were lined with books. Leather armchairs had been moved aside, and in the middle of the room was a long wooden table piled with papers and boxes of envelopes.
“There are coffee and doughnuts over there,” he said, pointing to a smaller table by the fireplace. “So get comfortable and start stuffing.”
“Start what?” Bess asked.
“Stuffing,” he said. “You’re volunteers, right? You’re here to stuff campaign flyers?”
“That’s right,” Nancy said quickly.
“Good. My name’s Barry, by the way,” he told her. “I’m in charge until Todd and his manager get back. So if you have any questions, just ask. I’ll be in the next room—that’s where the phones are.”
When Barry left the room, Nancy burst out laughing. “Sorry, you guys. If we stay here longenough, I’ll figure out a way to get into that tower. I hope you don’t mind stuffing a few
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