Hector obeyed, and Cousin Ronald, giving him a humorous look as he took his cup from the salver, asked: “Are you really going to leave those tramps in the parlor yonder to carry off whatever they please?”
“Why, sah, dis chile ain’t so powerful strong dat he kin fight two big fellers widout nobody to help wid the business,” grumbled Hector, looking very black at the suggestion.
“Oh, Hector, don’t be such a coward,” exclaimed Walter Travilla. “I’m not very big or strong, but, if mamma will let me, I’ll go along and protect you from them while you put them out. I may, mayn’t I, mamma?” giving her an inquiring look as he rose from his chair.
But at that moment one of the strange voices was again heard at the door opening on the veranda.
“Never mind, little feller; we’re out here and going off now; and we haven’t taken a pin’s worth, for we’re honest chaps if we are poor and sometimes ask for a bite o’ victuals.”
“Yaas, that’s so,” drawled the other voice.
A sound like that of retreating footsteps followed; then all was quiet, and Hector drew a long breath of relief.
“Glad dey’s gone,” he said presently, then went briskly about his business.
It was still early, not yet sundown, when those of the guests who had little ones took leave of their kind entertainers, and started for their homes. Edward and Zoe, with their twin babies, were among the first. Herbert, too, excused himself, and on the plea of a letter to write for the next mail went with them, riding his horse beside the carriage in which the others were seated.
They took a short cut through a bit of woods and were moving rather leisurely along, chatting about Cousin Ronald’s tricks of the afternoon and speculating upon the seeming fact that he must have a coadjutor, when Herbert suddenly reined in his steed, backing him away from the vehicle, and at the same time calling out in a quick, imperative, excited tone to the driver: “Rein in your horses, Solon! Quick, quick, back them for your life!”