Donald was talking rather savagely when Dorothy turned and saw him in the hall as she galloped through the opened gateway. But the man in the wet duster was not in the least vexed by Donald's manner. On the contrary, he assumed an air of superiority, and called him "my boy."
"All the Reeds are impetuous," he had said lightly, as if apologizing for this particular member of the family; "so we'll waive ceremony, my boy. With your permission, as I said before, I'll step into the parlor now, and have a little chat with the young lady."
"And as I said before," retorted Donald, "you'll do no such thing."
"Calm yourself," sneered the other. "It would be easy for me to get in through the window, were it not that one hates to scare the pretty bird; and as for the key—"
"As for the key," echoed Donald, who happened to have it in his possession; "well, and what of the key?"
"Why, my boy," glancing toward Don's pocket, "it wouldn't tax a six-footer like me overmuch to help himself to it; but, under the circumstances, it might be wiser merely to tell mine host in yonder room that an irate little manikin has taken it into his head to lock his sister, as he calls her, in the public parlor, and refuses to let her out."
"Insolent fellow!" exclaimed Donald, yet restraining his anger as well as he could. "Look out what you say. Another word like that, and I'll have you turned out of this place, neck and heels."
"Ha! ha! Pretty good. Well, as I was remarking, I've a word or two to say to my young lady in there. Hold up! H-o-l-d up! No one is going to kill her. Perhaps you're not aware I have a right there!"
"You have a right there, I'll admit, as a traveller," said Don; "but just now, I ask you to stay outside."
"And I ask you to let me in," returned the six-footer, beginning to be angry.