“‘Maybe I’m a fool,’ said mister calmly, ‘but I’ll think it over. Meanwhile, keep the boy close.’
“‘That we’ll do, sir,’ said the man respectfully, then he broke down, for he was all cut up. The boy had nearly killed him and his wife. He cried, and she cried; and they caught the boss’s hand, and God-blessed him; and he fled, and left his cloak with them; and he’s coming up this evening to talk the affair over with your boss.”
“Don’t those two men beat the Dutch for doing good?” I exclaimed. “They even get up in the night to do it.”
CHAPTER XXIV
SIR EDWARD MEDLINGTON
One cool, sharp afternoon, when the second summer of our stay in the country was drawing to a close, I found myself all alone over at Gringo’s house. All the dogs were away somewhere, so finding no one in the orchard to gossip with me, I made up my mind to run down to the village and call on Mrs. Waverlee.
It was just about five o’clock, and she had a nice English fashion of always having afternoon tea. When the maid brought in the tea things, there was always a blue bowl for Patsie’s tea, and a pink one for any caller he might have. There was quite a nipping wind that afternoon, and the thought of that pink bowl nearly full of weak tea, with four lumps of sugar, and plenty of cream in it, just warmed the cockles of my heart, so off I trotted for the village.
Mrs. Waverlee was at home sitting by the fire, and looking very sweet and pretty but rather tired, for she taught away a good deal of strength every morning. Her whole soul was in her work for the children.
She patted me very kindly, when I ran into her dainty drawing-room, and invited me to lie down on the rug before the fire.