“Big folks talk very much, papa,” remarked the little one, smiling up into his father’s face.
“So they do, and so may you when you grow big,” returned his father. “And now, when at home with no strangers by, you may talk too.”
“Well, Hector, suppose you take Scip’s advice and go and look for those tramps,” said Dr. Conly, addressing the frightened, perplexed-looking young servant-man. “Don’t be afraid; I promise to cure your hurts if you get any in trying to put them out.”
But Hector stood where he was as if rooted to the spot, shaking his head gloomily in response to the doctor’s suggestions.
“No, tank you, doctah, sah, but dis chile radder stay cured widout bein’ hurted fus,” he answered, retreating a little farther from the parlor door as he spoke.
“Then come and make yourself useful,” said Ella. “Get your salver and hand this cup of coffee to Mr. Lilburn.”
Hector obeyed, and Cousin Ronald, giving him a humorous look as he took his cup from the salver, asked: “Are you really going to leave those tramps in the parlor yonder to carry off whatever they please?”
“Why, sah, dis chile ain’t so powerful strong dat he kin fight two big fellers widout nobody to help wid the business,” grumbled Hector, looking very black at the suggestion.
“Oh, Hector, don’t be such a coward,” exclaimed Walter Travilla. “I’m not very big or strong, but, if mamma will let me, I’ll go along and protect you from them while you put them out. I may, mayn’t I, mamma?” giving her an inquiring look as he rose from his chair.
But at that moment one of the strange voices was again heard at the door opening on the veranda.
“Never mind, little feller; we’re out here and going off now; and we haven’t taken a pin’s worth, for we’re honest chaps if we are poor and sometimes ask for a bite o’ victuals.”
“Yaas, that’s so,” drawled the other voice.
A sound like that of retreating footsteps followed; then all was quiet, and Hector drew a long breath of relief.
“Glad dey’s gone,” he said presently, then went briskly about his business.
It was still early, not yet sundown, when those of the guests who had little ones took leave of their kind entertainers, and started for their homes. Edward and Zoe, with their twin babies, were among the first. Herbert, too, excused himself, and on the plea of a letter to write for the next mail went with them, riding his horse beside the carriage in which the others were seated.