"But we really saw it, Mr. Caxton!" Peter insisted. "We're not making it up. Honest we're not."
"Sit down, don't annoy me!" Mr. Caxton said, throwing another log on the fire. "If you say another word I'll take you across my knee, and drum some sober sense into you!"
Tommy winced, and recoiled in alarm. But Susan could run, hop or skip a rope, and still know when an adult was bluffing.
"You wouldn't dare spank Peter," she said.
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
Mr. Caxton arose from his crouching position by the fire, and eyed Susan angrily. "You're a very little girl to talk so big," he sneered. "Let me tell you something. To me you're a woman already—a woman in embryo. I can see you twenty years from now, nagging the life out of a man. If I sent you off to bed without your supper I'd be doing your future husband a favor."
"Just try shutting Peter and me up in the dark again!" Susan warned. "Just try—and see what happens!"
Mr. Caxton bent, and picked up a thin reed switch. He flourished it threateningly.
"Go away," he growled. "Get out of my sight. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Come on," Peter urged, tugging at his sister's sleeve. "If he hits me you'll start crying."