“Did you know she was going to blow up the copper hole with gunpowder?”
“No, sir. Last time I see her, she was lighting the kitchen-fire.”
“What!” yelled Vane.
“Yes, sir,” cried cook, sitting up suddenly, and speaking indignantly: “and I won’t stop another day in a house where such games is allowed. I’d got a good fire by half-past six, and was busy in the back kitchen when it went off. Me get powder to blow up copper holes? I scorn the very idee of it, sir. It’s that master Vane put powder among the coals to play me a trick.”
“I didn’t,” cried Vane.
“Don’t say that, sir,” interposed Bruff, “why, I see the greenhouse chockfull o’ smoke as I come by.”
Vane had turned quite cold, and was staring at his uncle, while his uncle with his face full of chagrin and perplexity was staring at him.
“You’ve done it this time, my boy,” said the doctor, sadly.
“Is anybody killed?—is anybody killed?” cried Aunt Hannah from the hall. “I can’t come through the kitchen. My dear Vane! oh, do speak.”
“No one hurt,” shouted the doctor. “Come, Vane.”