"You keep away from the porch," said the father, uneasily.

"You mean what I said about Ray Vilas?" asked the boy.

Both parents looked uncomfortable, and Mr. Madison, turning a leaf
in his book, gave a mediocre imitation of an austere person
resuming his reading after an impertinent interruption.

"That's what you mean," said the boy accusingly. "Ray Vilas!"

"Just you keep away from that porch."

"Because I happened to mention Ray Vilas?" demanded Hedrick.

"You let your sister alone."

"I got a right to know what she said, haven't I?"

There was no response, which appeared to satisfy Hedrick
perfectly. Neither parent met his glance; the mother troubled and
the father dogged, while the boy rejoiced sternly in some occult
triumph. He inflated his scant chest in pomp and hurled at the
defeated pair the well-known words:

"I wish she was _my_ daughter--about five minutes!"

New sounds from without--men's voices in greeting, and a ripple of
response from Cora somewhat lacking in enthusiasm--afforded Mr.
Madison unmistakable relief, and an errand upon which to send his
deadly offspring.