Madam Passmore's gentle deprecation of his wrath appeared to set the Squire free to explode a third time.
"Lucy!" he exclaimed, turning to his wife, in one of the severest tones he had ever used to her, "I am a Whig, and my father was a Whig before me, and my grandfather fought for King Charles at Edgehill and Naseby: and I have brought up these children to be Whigs, and if they aren't, 'tis a burning shame! A murrain on the day that sent my Lady Ingram here after our Celia! But, hang it all! how can I help it?" said the Squire, suddenly breaking down. "If this fellow be Celia's brother, and have saved Harry's life, as a man of honor I could not bid them do otherwise than try to save his—no, not if he were the Pope himself! 'Tis not nature for a man to take sides against his own children. Botheration!" he concluded, suddenly veering round again; "that isn't what I meant to say at all. I intended to be very angry, and I have only been an old fool—that's what I am!"
"You are a dear old father, who can't be cross when he thinks he ought to be—that's what you are!" said Lucy, coaxingly.
"Get along with you, hussey!" returned the Squire, shaking his fist at her in a manner which Lucy very well knew was more than half make-believe. "And pray, Colonel Passmore, after allowing me to search the house three times and find nothing, I should like, if you please, to know where you hid your refugee?"
"You shall see that, Father," said Harry, rising.
And he led the way to the hiding-place, followed by the whole family, Cicely bringing up the rear when she heard the noise they made. Each member expressed his or her amazement in a characteristic manner.
"Oh, my buttons! isn't that capital!" said Charley. "I wish I had known last night! It would have been ten times better fun!"
"I think you enjoyed yourself sufficiently," returned his brother, gravely.
"What a horrid, dark hole, Harry!" said Lucy.
"I never knew of such a place here!" exclaimed his mother.