“Ran away!” exclaimed Mr. Rushton. “I never heard of their doing anything like that before. What made them run away? Did you get hurt?”
“Nothing but my feelings and my clothes,” said Aaron. “But if you want to know what made them run away, ask that precious son of yours there.” And he shot a vicious glance at Teddy, who colored as the eyes of his father and mother turned toward him.
“Teddy!” exclaimed Mrs. Rushton. “What did he have to do with it?”
“What didn’t he have to do with it, you mean. He had everything to do with it. He hit one of the horses with a baseball–aimed deliberately at him, mind you–and the horses took fright and ran away. They came within an ace of killing the driver, and, as it is, you’ll have a pretty penny to pay for the damage to the coach and horses. As for me, I might have been killed in the smash-up, if I hadn’t had the gumption to jump before we came to the bridge.”
“Oh, Teddy,” moaned Mrs. Rushton, “how could you do a thing like that?”
“Go into the house, sir,” commanded his father sternly. “I’ll attend to your case later.”
Teddy obeyed with alacrity, glad to escape for the moment from the sharpness in his father’s voice and the sadness in his mother’s eyes.
His despondency was lightened somewhat by the savory smells from the kitchen. He made his way there, to see what they were going to have for supper. It was behind the regular time, and he was ravenously hungry.
Appetizing odors came from the dishes, already taken up and ready to be conveyed to the dining-room.
“Um-yum,” he gloated. “Chicken–and green peas–and strawberries–and peach pie. Bully!”