“Youn’ mist’ess, ’taine no joke. ’Deed, Tige is a wusser sabbidge debbil now she’s a-nussin’ ob her pups, dan ebber she was ’fo’. She’ll mucilage dat po’ sinner!”
“The man takes his life in his own hands when he trespasses on these premises. The dog is here to guard them. If Hanson does not go when he is told to go, he must take the consequences,” said the young lady impatiently. “But there is not the slightest danger,” she added; “the man has an excellent pair of heels, and will use them. He is a champion runner. Go, now, and send him away—peaceably, if you can, with the dog at his heels, if you must,” Roma concluded, as she sank down in her easy-chair, watched by the two children, who stood, hand in hand, before her, awed into unusual stillness by the strange excitement of their “lady.”
Roma took no notice of them. She was too deeply absorbed in her own profound indignation to do so.
Pompous strutted solemnly out of the room, and out of the back door of the kitchen, which he carefully closed behind him. He was in great trouble. The agonizing question with him was this—if he should have to loose that beast on that man, and she should kill him, should he, Pompous Pirate, be hanged for it? He feared he should. He had only obeyed his mistress’ orders, but the law was very “onsartin,” he reflected, gloomily shaking his head. This brought him around to the front of the house.
Hanson was standing on the porch, looking about him while waiting for his knock to be answered.
The two men recognized each other instantly, simultaneously.
“Oh! you are there, are you?” exclaimed Hanson. “I have been knocking here for the last ten minutes. It began to look as if there was nobody at home. How do you do, Pontius?” and Hanson held out his hand in a friendly manner.
Pompous took it as a matter of policy, but was immediately instigated by the evil one to tell a falsehood. He never felt the least conscientious scruple about lying, especially in the cause of “peace and quietness,” when he deemed mendacity a merit. Now he thought if he could persuade this unwelcome visitor that Miss Fronde was neither in the house nor in the neighborhood he would leave both without giving any trouble. So he answered:
“So dere aine nobody at home, sah. De famberly all gone ’way, an’ de house shet up.”
“Oh, I know the Grays and Eldes are in Europe, but your mistress—where is she?”