“Impident rascal!” returned the colored lad wrathfully. “Mr. Cal, I’ll go drive ’im out ef you say so, sir.”
“Yes, do so at once, Hector,” returned Calhoun. “We don’t want tramps about to-day, and he seems a decidedly impudent one.”
Hector hurried to the door, but was back again in a moment, his face ghastly with fright.
“He—he—dey am no dar, sir,” he gasped. “Couldn’t see nobody ’tall. Whar—whar you ’spose dey’s done gone so pow’ful quick, sah?”
“Oh, don’t be frightened, Hector; they’re not likely to prove very dangerous fellows,” returned Calhoun. “The probability would seem to be that they have just stepped off the veranda into the grounds—scared, you know, at seeing so powerful a fellow as you coming after them in such a rage—and will be back asking for their supper in another minute or two. However, as they may be lurking about, watching an opportunity to help themselves, you may as well send some one out to look them up and watch their movements.”
“Ha, ha, you’re a bit late with your precautions, mister!” exclaimed one of the voices, now coming apparently from an inner room, “we’re here already, and what’s more, defy you, sir, to put us out in a hurry.”
“That’s so,” growled the other voice; “’twould take any two o’ those gents at the table to put me out; and I’ll not go a step till I’ve satisfied my appetite with the best they’ve got.”
“Well,” exclaimed Ella, “if that isn’t impudence I never heard any. But we are neglecting our guests, Art.; Uncle Horace’s plate wants replenishing; the captain’s too.”
“Polly’s hungry; poor old Polly, poor old soul!” screamed from the mantelpiece again the voice that sounded like that of Lulu’s pet. “Breakfast-time. Polly wants coffee.”