The three blacks set up a shout like school-children who had escaped punishment, and danced and capered off to the work that they had left the day before.
“Look here, sir—” began Brookes again.
“Why don’t you hold your tongue, Brooky?” cried old Sam. “You ain’t looked in the glass this morning, or you’d see enough mischief was done yesterday.”
“Who spoke to you?” cried Brookes fiercely.
“Not you, or you’d get on better. Young master’s quite right. You can’t deal with the blacks that way.”
“Breakfast!” cried a clear voice; and Nic turned to find his sister Janet coming to meet him, looking very pale, but quite contented.
“I shall keep it a secret, Nic,” she whispered. “I’m so glad, for all that seemed so dreadful to me.”
At that moment Mrs Braydon appeared at the door, she too looking pale, but eager to welcome her son; and no allusion was made during breakfast to the previous day’s trouble.
But hardly had they finished when Nibbler burst into a deep-toned volley of barking, which immediately started the two collies, and they rushed round to the front.
“Some one coming,” cried Hilda. “Oh,—they’re bringing back poor Leather!”