Fearful lest our surprise at our reception should become crystallized into an undesirable suspicion, short of pressing us to remain, our cousins did everything to smooth our ruffled plumage.

Vandy threw down the sickle and advanced with an apologetic leer.  Emma and May, wreathed in smiles, protested nervously that they had known the work was too much for Vandy, and begged us to think no more of it.  As we followed the latter round to the quondam drive, they waved a cordial farewell.

The sight of the four-wheeled dogcart, standing with upturned shafts, a pickaxe, three shovels, a rake, two forks, a number of sacks, and a sieve piled anyhow by its side, was most engaging; but, after bestowing a casual glance upon the paraphernalia, Berry passed by without a word.  Vandy went a rich plum colour, hesitated, and then plunged on desperately.  Tethered by a halter to a tree, a partially harnessed bay mare suspended the process of mastication to fix us with a suspicious stare.  Her also we passed in silence.

After a blasphemous struggle with the gates, whose objection to opening was literally rooted and based upon custom, our host succeeded in forcing them apart sufficiently to permit our egress, and we gave him “Good day.”

In silence we strolled down the road.

When we came to the lane, Berry stopped dead.

“Brother,” he said, “I perceive it to be my distasteful duty to return.  There is an omission which I must repair.”

“You’re not serious?” said I.  “The fellow’ll murder you.”

“No, he won’t,” said Berry.  “He’ll probably burst a blood-vessel, and, with luck, he may even have a stroke.  But he won’t murder me.  You see.”  And, with that, he turned down the lane towards the door in the wall.

Nobby and I followed.

A moment later we were once more in the garden.

The scene upon which we came was big with promise.

Staggering over the frantic employment of a pickaxe, Vandy was inflicting grievous injury upon the turf about the very spot at which the terrier had been digging.  Standing well out of range, his sisters were regarding the exhibition with clasped hands and looks of mingled excitement and apprehension.  All three were so much engrossed that, until Berry spoke, they were not aware of our presence.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you again”—­Emma and May screamed, and Vandy endeavoured to check his implement in mid-swing, and only preserved his balance and a whole skin as by a miracle—­“but, you know, I quite forgot to ask you about the book.  And, as that was really our main object in——­”

The roar of a wild beast cut short the speaker.

Bellowing incoherently, trembling with passion, his mouth working, his countenance distorted with rage, Vandy shook his fist at his tormentor in a fit of ungovernable fury.

“Get out of it!” he yelled.  “Get out of it!  I won’t have this intrusion.  It’s monstrous.  I won’t stand it.  I tell you——­”