"Really, Harold," said Melinda, who was dry as a shingle under the July sun, "you did that rather clumsily."
Harky made a mental note. It was easy to work the pith out of an elderberry stick. Small stones were plentiful. One of the latter, placed in the mouth and blown through the former, was never forgotten by anyone with whom it collided. The next time Harky attended Miss Cathby's school, Melinda was in for an unforgettable experience.
For the moment, since he could do nothing else about her, he could imagine she wasn't along. Harky turned his back on Melinda and addressed Mun:
"Duckfoot's gone."
"Danged if he ain't," said Mun, who noticed for the first time that they had only three of the four hounds with which they'd started. "When'd you note it?"
"Other side of the brook," Harky said in a hushed voice. "One minute his nose was in my hand, the next it wasn't. Do you figure he took wings and flew off?"
"It could," Mun began, but his about-to-be-expressed opinion that such a premise was wholly reasonable was interrupted by Melinda's, "Nonsense!"
Harky blazed, forgetting his sensible plan to ignore her. "Watta you know about it?"
"Now don't lose your temper, Harold," Melinda chided. "It's silly to suppose Duckfoot's half duck."
Harky drew his arm back. "Silly, huh? I've a good mind to—"