Bessie Carvil was breathing quickly.

"What if I tried a knock at the door?" he suggested.

"Try," she said.

Captain Hagberd's gate squeaked, and the shadow of the son moved on,
then stopped with another deep laugh in the throat, like the father's,
only soft and gentle, thrilling to the woman's heart, awakening to her
ears.

"He isn't frisky--is he? I would be afraid to lay hold of him. The chaps
are always telling me I don't know my own strength."

"He's the most harmless creature that ever lived," she interrupted.

"You wouldn't say so if you had seen him chasing me upstairs with a hard
leather strap," he said; "I haven't forgotten it in sixteen years."

She got warm from head to foot under another soft, subdued laugh. At the
rat-tat-tat of the knocker her heart flew into her mouth.

"Hey, dad! Let me in. I am Harry, I am. Straight! Come back home a day
too soon."

One of the windows upstairs ran up.

"A grinning, information fellow," said the voice of old Hagberd, up in
the darkness. "Don't you have anything to do with him. It will spoil