"Folk shouldna find fault with what they've asked for," was the old gentleman's non-committal rejoinder.
"Oh, no, sir! no indeed! but I was not meaning to find fault," laughed Ned; "I think it was good fun, and hope you will give us more of it."
Just as he pronounced the last word a fierce bark, seemingly that of a very large dog, followed instantly by a scream as if a woman were in pain and terror, startled them all, and there were outcries of affright from the children, while several of the grown people started to their feet and looked anxiously in the direction of the sounds, which had seemed to come from the vicinity of the porch, but a little farther toward the rear of the house.
Another bark from the dog, then a woman's voice in tones of wild affright, "Oh, somebody help, help! this dog will tear me to pieces."
Mr. Leland and Walter Travilla stepped quickly to the end of the porch nearest the sounds and looked around the corner of the house, but instantly reported that neither woman nor dog was to be seen.
"Oh, another sell from Cousin Ronald!" laughed Ned. "Oh, there it is again!" for just then there was a sound as of a loud knock at a side door, and a man's coarse voice thundering, "Let me in oot o' this rain, ye slowgoing, good-for-naught biddies. Let me in, I say, and be quick about it."
A woman's scream followed instantly, "Oh, captain, or some o' you gentlemen, come here quick and save us from this drunken rascal."
Some of those on the porch were a little startled for an instant, but a laugh quickly followed, and the fun went on for some minutes—bees, mice, chickens, and puppies being heard, but not seen or felt.
But the rainfall was growing heavier, and at length Harold suggested that it might be well for Grace, if not for all, to go within doors to escape the dampness.
Nearly all at once complied with the suggestion, and Mrs. Travilla, inviting Grace to a seat by her side, said low and tenderly: