“What in blazes did you yell like that for?” protested the coachman, springing from the carriage. “Stop it, d'ye hear?”
“You said you wanted him, didn't you? Mr. Colton! Hi! Come here!”
Colton came hurrying down to the gate, his daughter following more slowly.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
The coachman touched his hat.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said; “this man started yelling before I could stop him. I was coming to tell you. Mrs. Colton says she's very nervous, sir, and please come home at once.”
Colton turned with a shrug to his daughter. “We might have expected it, Mabel,” he said. “Come.”
But the young lady seemed to hesitate. “I believe I won't go yet, Father,” she said. “Mother doesn't need both of us. Victor will be here very soon, and we promised to wait for him, you know.”
“We can leave word. You'd better come, Mabel. Heavens and earth! you don't want any MORE of this, do you?”
It was evident that he had had quite enough of the festival. She laughed lightly.