“I have just brought the knockers,” said the latter. “I am much obliged for that clever suggestion of yours. The head is a speaking likeness.”
The Younger smiled uncomfortably.
“Yes? And what does our young lady think of them?”
“She is very pretty. She says they are too charming to put out here on the door. She must keep them by her.”
The Younger stepped inside and slammed the gate in the other’s face. Could a spectator then have seen both sides of the wall he would have observed each gentleman, very red, contemplating for a moment the closed door. He would finally have beheld them turn and walk away—the Elder slowly, shrugging his shoulders; the Younger in haste, his head held high.
He found Susannah in the sala, laughing over the obnoxious knockers. The sight of it angered him the more.
“My dear young lady,” he cried out, “you have made a fool of yourself long enough. You must go home.”
Susannah stopped laughing, for very surprise. She examined the flushed Younger curiously, as if he had been a strange beast in a cage.
“Why,” she said, “what is the matter with you? Do you feel ill? Shall I ring for Gilda?”
The Younger flung his hat into a chair.