As Billy ran, the dead got his wits about him, sat up, and, hearing Billy howling, got on his feet.  His hands were torn and bleeding, but he was not otherwise damaged.  He ran after Billy, and was but a moment behind him.

Mrs. Ann was shaking the simple fellow, vainly trying to learn what had happened.  Leila white to the lips was leaning against a pillar.  John called out, “I’m all right, aunt.  I had a fall—­and Billy, do hold your tongue.”

Billy cried, “He’s not dead!” and fled as he had come.

“My poor boy,” said Mrs. Ann, “sit down.”  He gladly obeyed.

At this moment James Penhallow came downstairs.  “What’s all this row about, Ann?  I heard Billy—­Oh, so you’re the dead man, John.  How did you happen to die?”

“I fell off the stable roof, sir.”

“Well, you got off easily.”  He asked no other questions, to John’s relief, but said, “Your hands look as if you had fought our big tom-cat.”

John had risen on his uncle’s approach.  Now Penhallow said, “Sit down.  Put some court-plaster on those scratches, Ann, or a postage stamp—­or—­so—­Come, Leila, the horses are here.  Run upstairs and get my riding-whip.  That fool brought me down in a hurry.  When the chimney took fire last year he ran through the village yelling that the house was burned down.  Don’t let your aunt coddle you, John.”

“Do let the boy alone, James.”

“Come, Leila,” he said.

“I think I won’t ride to-day, Uncle Jim.”

A faint signal from his wife sent him on his way alone with, “All right, Leila.  Any errands, my dear?”

“No—­but please call at the grocer’s and ask him why he has sent no sugar—­and tell Mrs. Saul I want her.  If Pole is in, you might mention that when I order beef I do not want veal.”

While John was being plastered and in dread of the further questions which were not asked, Leila went upstairs, and the Squire rode away to the iron-works smiling and pleased.  “He’ll do,” he murmured, “but what the deuce was my young dandy doing on the roof?” The Captain had learned in the army the wisdom of asking no needless questions.  “Leila must have been a pretty lively instructor in mischief.  By and by, Ann will have it out of the boy, and—­I must stop that.  Now she will be too full of surgery.  She is sure to think Leila had something to do with it.”  He saw of late that Ann was resolute as to what to him would be a sad loss.  Leila was to be sent to school before long—­accomplishments!  “Damn accomplishments!  I have tried to make a boy out of her—­now the inevitable feminine appears—­she was scared white—­and the boy was pretty shaky.  I am sure Leila will know all about it.”  That school business had already been discussed with his wife, and then, he thought, “There is to come a winter in the city, society, and—­some nice young man, and so good-bye, my dear comrade.  Get up, Brutus.”  He dismissed his cares as the big bay stretched out in a gallop.