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"That was because ... the poor little man would have been killed ... anyone would have d-done that, and ... I d-did not think what I was d-doing...." "Yes, I know," and Nestie mocked his father shamefully, even unto his face; "and everybody read in the paper how the child wasn't near the cow, and the cow was quite nice and well-behaved, and you ... ran away; for shame, now!
"W-What are you d-doing in this m-man's house?" he shouted, his shrill voice breaking into a ferocious shriek, as he blinked and pointed at his frightened wife. Captain Pott was so surprised that he merely gaped at the infuriated little man. "Harry, please don't!" pleaded Mrs. Beaver, drawing back against the wainscoting. "C-Come out of h-here!" hissed her husband.
"W-what are you d-doing " She controlled her voice and the wavering weapon with an effort. "What are you doing in this house?" "Doing? In this house?" he repeated, his eyes protruding in the direction of the unsteady pistol muzzle. "What are you doing in this house if you don't mind saying!" "I I m-must ask you to put up your hands," she said.
"They smell awfully g-good," whispered Annette. "What?" "The hoe-cakes. I didn't have any dinner." "Neither did I." Annette looked up quickly. "What were you d-doing out there on the track, Sandy?" The farmer's wife fortunately came to the rescue. "Hitch up yer cheers, you two, and take a little snack afore you go out in the cold ag'in."
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