“Well, I never went anywhere near him,” Elsie said. “I never even touched a mallet!”
“Neither’d I!” said Thomas Kimball. “I wasn’t in ten feet of him.”
“I wasn’t in a hunderd!” said Freddie.
“It wasn’t me!” Thomas protested. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“It was Laurence Coy,” said Freddie. “That’s who it was.”
“It was every bit Laurence Coy,” said Elsie. “I told them not to play such rough games.”
Thus protesting, the three moved shyly toward various exits from the yard, and protesting still, went forth toward their several dwelling-places—and went unnoticed, for Robert was the centre of attention. The volume of sound he produced was undiminished, though the tone had elevated somewhat in pitch, and he seemed to intend words, probably of a reproachful nature; but as his excess of emotion enabled him to produce only vowels, the effect was confused, and what he wished to say could be little more than guessed.
“Hush, hush!” said Renfrew, trying to get him to stand up. “You’ll bring the whole town here!”
Robert became more coherent. “He him me om my mose!”
“I know,” said Renfrew. “But you’re not much hurt.”