"What has happened?" asked the lady. "We heard shots, and a little boy came running down the hill crying that his father was killed. It is Mr. Noakes, Mr. Trenchard says."
"Quite a mistake, Aunt," said Templeton. "I am glad to see you. Come in; I'll explain. This is my friend Eves."
"Yes, yes; but the boy was greatly agitated. Run after him, Robert, and tell him that his father is not killed."
"My hat!" muttered Eves, with a grimace, as Templeton sprinted down the hill.
"What was it, Mr. Eves? I am greatly concerned that the little fellow should have had such a terrible shock."
"Well, Miss Templeton, I really—you see—oh, yes, it was Bob's tar entanglement, you know. But Mr. Trenchard has told you about old Noakes, I expect."
"Mr. Trenchard has told me things about Mr. Noakes that I cannot credit. But I do not understand—a tar entanglement, you said?"
"Yes, an invention of Bob's, you know; a splendid thing. But there's such a lot to tell: won't you go into the house? Then Bob and I can tell you between us."
"Very well. Give the driver ten shillings for his fare."
"I've only four and elevenpence half-penny," said Eves, with a smile.