Then, though Purdy jumped to his
feet and the laughter died out as if by command, he drew his brows
together, and without saying a word, stalked into the surgery and shut
the door.
Like a schoolboy who has been caned, Purdy dug his knuckles into his
eyes and rubbed his hindquarters--to the fresh delight of Trotty and
the girl.
"Well, so long, Polly! I'd better be making tracks. The old man's on the
warpath." And in an undertone: "Same old grouser! Never COULD take a
joke."
"He's tired. I'll make it all right," gave Polly back.
--"It was only his fun, Richard," she pleaded, as she held out a linen
jacket for her husband to slip his arms into.
"Fun of a kind I won't permit in my house. What an example to set the
child! What's more, I shall let Hempel know that he is being made a butt
of. And speak my mind to your sister about her heartless behaviour."
"Oh, don't do that, Richard. I promise it shan't happen again. It was
very stupid of us, I know. But Purdy didn't really mean it unkindly; and
he IS so comical when he starts to imitate people." And Polly was all
but off again, at the remembrance.
But Mahony, stooping to decipher the names Ellen had written on the
slate, did not unbend. It was not merely the vulgar joke that had
offended him. No, what really rankled was the sudden chill his
unlooked-for entrance had cast over the group; they had scattered and gone
scurrying about their business, like a pack of naughty children who had
been up to mischief behind their master's back.
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