He did not pause to remove one atom of the sticky creek mud that plastered grotesquely his rusty but solemn suit of black. Drenched and defiled, he felt himself an object of sympathy. He would not even remove the occasional green leaves and rosebuds that clung to him here and there with a most ludicrous effect, making one think of a too festive picnicker. Mr. Hand was quite lacking in a sense of the ridiculous.
When he reached the door he knocked imperiously, and after a second, rapped again. Mrs. Carter was busy in the kitchen. She resented the hastiness of the summons. Under no circumstances would she let herself be seen in the rôle of kitchen girl. She clung to appearances with a tenacity that nothing could shake. Long practice in this sort of thing, however, had made her very expert; and by the time Mr. Hand had thundered at the knocker four or five times, his wrath getting hotter as his damp clothes got more chilly, Mrs. Carter had made herself presentable and was ready to open the door.
Severe and stately in her widow's garments, cool of countenance as if she had been but sitting in expectancy of callers, she opened the door and confronted Mr. Hand. Recognizing her unwelcome visitor, she drew herself up to her full height, and the little, dripping old man looked the more grotesque and mean by contrast.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hand," she began in tones of ice; "can I do anything"--but at this point she took in the full absurdity of his appearance. With all her stateliness she had a keen appreciation of the ridiculous, and it was from her that Ted derived his excess of humor and his love of mischief. Passionately as she scorned Mr. Hand, she could forget herself so far as to let him amuse her. Her large face melted into a smile. She struggled to keep from open laughter.
"Look at me, just look at me, at my condition!" burst forth Mr. Hand "This is some of the work of your two brats of boys, madam. I'll horsewhip them, I'll have them horsewhipped!"
By this time Mrs. Carter was laughing unreservedly. She was consumed with mirth, as Mr. Hand continued:
"O, yes! I don't doubt you put them up to it! I don't doubt you think it is a great joke; a great joke, madam. But I'll make you smart for it! You think there's no one in Frosty Hollow fit to associate with you, eh! You're a pauper, and your brats are paupers! That's what you are. I'll foreclose that mortgage at once, and out you'll go, just as quickly as the course of law will permit. This time next year you'll have no roof over your head, and everyone in the village will say I have done quite right by you! I--"
"Really, Mr. Hand" exclaimed Mrs. Carter, interrupting, "you have no right to appear before me in such a shocking condition. If you wish to talk to me you must call again, and in more suitable attire. Excuse me!" And she shut the door in his face.
Mr. Hand shook his fist at the big brass knocker, then turned to go. The boys were just opening the little white gate. Mr. Hand paused between the beds of sweet williams and canterbury bells. He was in doubt as to the attitude he had better assume to Will and Ted. Glancing along the road he saw the figure of Will Hen Baizley inspecting curiously the ruins of the seat beneath the elm. Here was an ally if need should arise. He decided on prompt retribution, and seized his stick in a firmer grasp.