way, I want one of you two men to clear that litter of food and
greasy paper off my lawn. Then--"

"Into the kitchen!" snorted the wet maid. "Into the KITCHEN? I'm
a lady! I don't go into kitchens. I--"

"No?" queried the Master, trying once more not to laugh. "Well,
my wife does. So does my mother. I spoke of the kitchen because
it's the only room with a fire in it, in this weather. If you'd
prefer the barn or--"

"I won't step one foot in your house!" declaimed the girl. "Nor
yet I didn't come here to be insulted. You've gone and spoiled
our whole day, you big brute! Boys, go get that canoe! We won't
lower ourselves by staying another minute on his rotten land.
Afterward, our lawyer'll see what's the penalty for treating us
like this! Hurry up!"

Rice had clumped along shore until he found a dead branch washed
up in a recent rainstorm. Wading back into deeper water he was
just able to reach the gunwale of the drifting canoe with the
forked end of the bough and, by careful jockeying, to haul it
within hand-grasp.

Aided by Higham, he drew the overturned craft to the beach and
righted it. All the time, both men maintained a half-coherent
diatribe, whose language waxed hotter and hotter and whose
thunderbolts centered about the Master and his dog;--particularly
about Lad;--and about the dire legal penalties which were to be
inflicted on them.