"Claim! He hasn't," she gasped. "I'll do as I please. And he'd better quit pesterin' me or I'll——"
"What?"
She laughed.
"I'll put him through the clothes-wringer."
Peter grinned. "He almost looks as though you'd done that already."
And as she followed him to the door, "I thought I ought to tell you about Shad. When he gets ugly—he's ugly an' no mistake."
"Do you still think he'll—er—swallow me at one gobble?" he asked.
She stared at him a moment and then laughed with a full throat. "I hope he don't—at least not 'til I've had my singin' lessons."
"I think I can promise you that," said Peter.
She followed him out to the porch, where they looked about for Shad. He had disappeared. And in the "Lizzie," which had been panting by the side of the road, Peter was conducted by the soiled young man at the wheel to Black Rock House.