Ranty rose, with anything but a sweet expression, and went out, shaking his fist grimly at the door, I am sorry to say, once it was safely shut between them.
On reaching the cottage, he found Ray flushed and feverish with Pet and Erminie sitting on either side of him.
“Pet, go home; father says so,” was his first brusque salute.
“I won’t then—not a step!” said the obstinate Pet.
“He’ll be after you with a horsewhip mighty sudden, if you don’t,” said Ranty. “I wish you could see how he’s been blazing away all the morning. I reckon he’s stamping up and down the library yet, nursing his wrath to keep it warm till he gets hold of you.”
“Well,” said the disrespectful vixen, “if he’s a mind to get mad for nothing, I can’t help it. I shan’t go.”
“Oh, Pet! you’d better,” said Erminie, anxiously. “He’ll be so very angry. I can take care of Ray, you know; and your father will scold you dreadfully.”
“La! I know that! I’m in for a scolding, anyway, so I may as well earn it. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, you know.”
“Oh, Pet! don’t stand bothering here all day,” broke in Ranty, impatiently. “I’ve got to bring you home, anyway, and I suppose you think a fellow has nothing to do but stay here and wait ’till you’re ready. Father will half-murder you, if you don’t come right straight along.”
“Yes; go, Pet—please do,” pleaded Erminie. “I had rather you would.”