The engine whistled. Buller started toward Martha, getting in the way of the baggage-man, who was pushing a loaded hand-truck before him. His elbow sent Buller reeling. In that instant, through a maze, Buller saw Martha lift what had looked like a piece of burlap-covered baggage from the truck, and toss it, with sure aim, to the brakeman on the platform of the slow-moving car. The brakeman caught it deftly, and set it on its feet. The train slid past.
"Ellen!" Buller cried. Then, turning on Martha, "You—devil!"
Mrs. Slawson bowed civilly. "Same to you, sir."
"I'll—I'll do you up yet. You're not done with me, not by a long shot."
"I haven't a doubt o' it. I'm ready for you, any time. Likewise Mister Slawson. Only, I advise you, take it out on me. My husband might hurt you too much, if he got goin'."
As they were driving home through the waning light, Sam told Martha he faintly remembered hearing Ellen's knock on the door—"only he was too tired to get up."
"You were smart to hear it through your own snores," she returned pleasantly. "But when we get home, you must turn in, an' take a real sleep. I'll wake you when Buller comes."
CHAPTER X
Dr. Ballard had been absent a fortnight or more, and July was drawing to its close, when one afternoon Katherine heard the sound she had been longing for all these days, the familiar musical notes of his motor-horn.
Looking ahead expectantly, he spied her at once, and gave salute, as the car swept up to the porch, a silent military salute. Alighting, he passed directly upstairs to Madam Crewe's sitting-room.