Mary lifted her hands in dismay.
"Dad's to meet him at Lettergort at four-thirty. It's just as well it happened, anyhow, for, instead of going into his study to read the Sentinel, I've headed him off for the stables to see if Frisky must have a shoe. So he hasn't discovered yet the terrible havoc among his household gods. Maybe, if we can get things to rights before he finds out, he'll never know his room has been cleaned at all, at all. I'm sure Mrs. Murphy will leave as few traces of the cleaning as possible."
"What are we to do, Pam?"
"Why, do nothing. It's just as well the glass is broken, for there'd be no time to put it in. Besides, I'm of Bridget's opinion, that brown paper's a deal comfortabler-looking in the could weather."
"But his dinner, Pamela?"
"Why, kill the red cock. He's been insufferable, strutting about with his hoarse crow, since he killed my dear bantam. Besides, he can't live much longer; you know he's very old."
"But won't he be tough? Besides, how are we to catch him?"
"As to the toughness, the youth will think it's the habit of Irish fowl. As to catching him, I think he might be trapped in the rose-bush opposite the hall-door, where he and his wives have taken to roosting; and a nice thing they've made of the rose-bush. He's so old, poor dear! that he goes to bed while yet the sun's high; but, mind, I'll have nothing to say to catching him, lest it should savour of revenge for my Dick."
"But, Pam, the house is upside down; and Sir Anthony comes at four-thirty, you say?"
"Four-thirty his train is due. But papa must take him a round that'll keep him till seven. You may trust Frisky, if Frisky gets a chance, though in the ordinary course of things they'd arrive here from Lettergort in half an hour. Then the train may be more late than usual, to oblige us."