“You mean old dog!” said Louise, jumping up. “I’ll settle you!” Puppums was very much pleased. He had an optimistic disposition, and he thought it was a game. He ran around and around the porch, finally, when he began to see that Louise was in earnest, hiding under the ice-chest, where he knew nobody could follow him. Louise stopped short, and eyed the ice-box. It occurred to her that she was thirsty.
“This is what you might call being guided,” said she, and opening the lid, looked in. She found a bag of lemons, a bunch of bananas, and she thought she remembered where Winona kept the bottled cherries and the cookies. She went into the kitchen and began work, and in a very little while was on her way back to the front porch with a tray, designed to show her remorse for being cross, piled with cookies and fruit lemonade. Mrs. Merriam, to whom she offered the first glass, pronounced it very good indeed, and sent her on her way. Puppums danced wildly about her, with the idea that she was clearing a table, and he might get bones.
Winona and Billy were still talking as placidly as if Tom had not been wrestling with a formal call, and Louise with a bad temper, for the last twenty minutes.
“Cookies—oh, and fruit lemonade! Louise, you dear!” cried Winona, while Billy took the tray and put it on a table.
“Won’t you have some, Billy? I know you like it, and—and I do like your Southern accent,” she added in a rush.
“Thank you, Louise,” said Billy. “I like your accent, too—and your fruit lemonade—very much.”
They both laughed. “Let’s bury the hatchet,” he added. “Louise, these certainly are fine cookies.”
The three were still sitting comfortably over their refreshments, even Puppums crunching cakes contentedly in a corner, when Tom hurried up the steps and banged himself down in a chair. His hat was jammed to one side in the old unceremonious fashion, his gloves had vanished, and even his cane was nowhere to be seen.
“Have some,” said Billy tactfully before Tom could say anything. They pushed the cakes toward him, and poured him some lemonade in Winona’s glass, and after he seemed less gloomy they got him to talk.
“Tell us all about it,” said Winona soothingly.