"And they hae tied her hand and foot,
And brought her to the camp, wuss luck!
The lads and lasses met her there,
Cried 'Hilda Grahame, thou art a duck!'"
"Obadiah, you are a very impudent boy. Wait till Monday week, that's all! But go on; let me hear all this villainy."
"Up then spake the brave Gerald,
As he sat by the Codger's knee,
'Fifteen horned pouts I'll give to you,
If you'll let Hilda the Grahame go free.'
"'Oh haud your tongue,' says Roger the Codger,
'And wie your pleading let me be;
For though-'"
"Hallo!"
"What is the matter?" asked Bell, who had been listening with high approval to the ballad. "Why, here is the Codger himself, back again. I thought he was not coming till night. What's up, Codger?"
Bell and Hildegarde rose, with a vague feeling of uneasiness, and as they did so, Roger advanced to meet them. Hilda fancied he looked grave, and her heart leaped into quick alarm. "You have no bad news, Captain Roger?" she cried. "My mother—Cousin Wealthy—!"
"Both well, quite well!" said Roger, hastily. "I called at the house as I came by, and found Mrs. Grahame there, looking extremely well, I thought."
"Mamma there!" cried Hilda. "Why—when did she come? Why did she not write that she was coming? I ought to have been there to meet her. You are sure you have nothing bad to tell me, Captain Roger? You looked so grave as you came up. I would rather know at once, please, if anything is wrong."
Roger smiled, and his honest eyes reassured the startled girl.