With renewed courage, they rang the door bell.  It was Marjorie’s turn to speak, and the words were on the tip of her tongue.  Being somewhat excited, she began her speech as the door began to open.

“Don’t you want to buy some pennyroyal extract?” she said rapidly; “it’s perfectly fine for mosquitoes, measles, and burns, and scarlet fever!  It isn’t worth a cent a quart, but we sell it for fifty cents a bottle, if you give the bottles back.  But if you don’t think it’s right for us to sell it, we won’t.”

Marjorie would not have been quite so mixed up in her speech but for the fact that after she was fairly started upon it, she raised her eyes to the person she was addressing, and instead of a kind and sweet-faced lady she beheld a very large, burly, and red-faced gentleman.

Not wishing to appear embarrassed, she floundered on with her speech, though in reality she hardly knew what she was saying.

“Well, upon my soul!” exclaimed the red-faced gentleman, in a loud, deep voice, “here’s a pretty kettle of fish.  Young ladies peddling extract at decent people’s houses!” He glared at the girls with a ferocious expression, and then went on, in even louder tones:  “What do you mean by such doings?  Have you a license?  Don’t you know that people who sell goods without a license must be arrested?  I’ve a notion to clap every one of you in jail!”

As might have been expected, Stella began to cry, while Midge and Molly gazed at the red-faced old man as if fascinated.  They wanted to run away, but something in his look held them there; and, anyway, they couldn’t go and leave Stella, who had dropped in a little heap on the floor of the piazza and hidden her face in her arms, while convulsive sobs shook her slender little frame.

At sight of Stella’s tears, a sudden and wonderful change seemed to come over the old gentleman.  His ferocious expression gave way to an anxious smile, and, stooping, he picked Stella up in his arms, saying:  “There, there, baby! don’t be frightened; that was only my joking.  Why, bless your heart, I wasn’t a mite in earnest.  There, there, now, don’t cry; I’ll buy all your extract,—­every single drop,—­and pay any price you want; and I’ll give you back all the bottles, and all the baskets, and all the extract, too, if you want it, and some lovely peaches into the bargain!  There, brace up now, and forgive your old Uncle Bill for teasing you so!  Jail, indeed!  I’ll take you into the house instead, and find some plum-cake for you!”

Carrying Stella in his big, strong arms, the strange old gentleman ushered Midge and Molly into the house and made straight for the dining-room.

“Folks all gone away,” he went on, still in his gruff, deep tones, but somehow they now sounded very kind; “gone away for an all-day picnic, and left me alone to shift for myself.  Jolly glad to have company—­jolly glad to entertain you.  Here’s peaches, here’s cake.  Have a glass of milk?”