Three pair of round eyes fixed on him caught the old gentleman’s attention.
“Well, well, well!” he said testily. “What do you see? Come, come, speak out!”
Elise drew back but the other two stood their ground, and Rosanna, who had seen him all her life and was at least accustomed to him, said gently:
“We see you, sir.”
“Ha hum!” sputtered the old gentleman, drawing his fierce white eyebrows together. “What about me, young woman, what about me to stare at?”
Rosanna was distressed. There seemed nothing to do but tell him the truth and that was almost too awful. She smoothed it down as well as she could.
“If you will excuse me for saying so, you looked a little cross,” she said, “and—and something must be making you very unhappy.”
“It is,” said the ogre. “It makes me unhappy to see what a silly no-account world this is; full of small children, and woolly dogs, and things. Kittens! Babies! Chickens! Bah! All making noises! All getting up at daybreak to play and meow and crow. Bah! Of course I am unhappy!”
He crossed the walk, waved the footman back with his cane, stepped painfully into the car, and with his own hand slammed the door shut. But his anger blinded him. He did not take his hand away soon enough, and the heavy door caught it. With a cry of pain, he dropped back on the cushions. The middle finger was crushed and bleeding profusely.