“Why, Master Vane!” he cried, “you been at it again.”
“Hush! Don’t say anything,” cried the lad. But Bruff’s exclamation had brought Martha to the kitchen-door; and as she caught sight of Vane’s face, she uttered a cry which brought out Eliza, who shrieked and ran to tell Aunt Hannah, who heard the cry, and came round from the front, where, with the doctor, she had been watching for the truant, the doctor being petulant and impatient about his evening meal.
Then the murder was out, and Vane was hurried into the little drawing-room, where Aunt Hannah strove gently to get him upon the couch.
“No, no, no,” cried Vane. “Uncle, tell Bruff and those two that they are not to speak about it.”
The doctor nodded and gave the order, but muttered, “Only make them talk.”
“But what has happened, my dear? Where have you been?”
“Don’t bother him,” said the doctor, testily. “Here, boy, let’s look at your injuries.”
“They’re nothing, uncle,” cried Vane. “Give me some tea, aunt, and I’m as hungry as a hunter. What have you got?”
“Oh, my dear!” cried Aunt Hannah; “how can you, and with a face like that.”
“Nothing the matter with him,” said the doctor, “only been fighting like a young blackguard.”