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He took the boy home, and then it was that for the first time for fifteen years he saw and talked to the woman he loved. "Mother," said the boy, "this is the new blacksmith that I've been telling you about, and he is great guns just pulled me out of the bottom of the Tennessee river." Jack laughed and said: "The little 'un ca'n't swim as well as he can shoot, ma'am."
Her loving husband stole behind her on tiptoe, and tapped her on the head. "Boh!" he playfully shouted at her ear. "Never tell me again I ca'n't say 'boh' to a goose!" My Lady wrung her hands. "Discovered!" she groaned. "Yet no he is one of us! Reveal it not, oh Man! Let it bide its time!" "Reveal what not?" her husband testily replied, dragging out the sheet of brown paper.
We must go to Father!" Sylvie panted, as they ran down the garden. "I'm sure things are at their worst! I'll ask the Gardener to let us out again." "But we ca'n't walk all the way!" Bruno whimpered. "How I wiss we had a coach-and-four, like Uncle!" And, shrill and wild, rang through the air the familiar voice:
"Excuse me, dear, I ca'n't help it!" he said as soon as he could speak. "You are such an utter donkey! Kiss me, Tabby!"
And he began trotting round and round the room, lifting up the chairs, and shaking them. Bruno took a very small book out of the bookcase, opened it, and shook it in imitation of the Professor. "He isn't here," he said. "He ca'n't be there, Bruno!" Sylvie said indignantly. "Course he ca'n't!" said Bruno. "I should have shooked him out, if he'd been in there!" "Has he ever been lost before?"
The cloud of dust spread itself out through the air, as if it were alive, forming curious shapes that were for ever changing into others. "It makes letters! It makes words!" Bruno whispered, as he clung, half-frightened, to Sylvie. "Only I ca'n't make them out! Read them, Sylvie!" "I'll try," Sylvie gravely replied. "Wait a minute if only I could see that word "
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