“My plate and cup, sir?” exclaimed the voice in tones of indignant surprise. “Pray where are they?”
“Directly in front of Mr. Lilburn—or Cousin Ronald, as we, his relatives, are accustomed to call him.”
“Why, laddie, I had thought you a hospitable host! and now would you rob me o’ my supper which you have just bestowed upon me, and give it to an unknown beggar-man?” exclaimed Mr. Lilburn in well-feigned astonishment and indignation.
“It does look very inhospitable, Ned; something to make me blush for my grandson,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore, with a slight smile.
“Well, well,” cried the rough voice, “it shall never be said of me that I set a family together by the ears. So I’ll leave. Good-by.”
A shuffling sound followed as of some one moving across the room in the direction of a door opening upon the veranda, then all was quiet. Every head turned in the direction of the sound, and as they ceased there was a general laugh; but the expression of Marian’s countenance was perplexed and slightly alarmed.
“Who—what was it?” she asked with a slight tremble in her voice.
“Nothing alarming, my dear,” replied Grandma Elsie in her sweet gentle tones; “we have a ventriloquist with us, that is all; and he not infrequently kindly amuses us with an exhibition of his skill.”
“Ah! and it is Cousin Ronald?” Marian returned inquiringly and with a half-smiling glance into Mr. Lilburn’s genial face.
Returning her smile, “Ah, little cousin, you seem to be as good at guessing as if you were a born Yankee,” he said pleasantly.