The veteran chef of the Tyringham had produced an excellent dinner, though the witch talk made Antoine a trifle nervous in serving it.
We had coffee on the veranda (Alice thought it would be nicer there), and as Antoine gave me my cup he edged close to my chair to whisper:
"That party, sir. If he should come——"
"Tell the troops not to attack any visitors," I said, loud enough for the others to hear. "Mr. Torrence will be here shortly, and it would be annoying to have him ushered in on a shutter. We must establish a rule that callers are not to be fired upon at the gate."
"I know why this is the land of the free and the home of the brave," laughed Alice. "One has to be brave to live here."
Antoine departed with a resentful twist of the shoulders, and I decided to meet squarely the matter of the visitors who had so troubled him.
"Please don't be frightened," I said as lightly as possible, "but these old fellows haven't enough to do, and they are full of apprehensions. With nobody here to keep them busy it's remarkable they haven't found a ghost."
"If they only would!" murmured Mrs. Farnsworth.
"No such luck! They have been alarmed by an agent of some sort who wants to welcome you to America by selling you a piano on easy payments."
Antoine had been hovering inside, and my remark brought him to the door.