He
inclined to the latter view and nobly took the plunge.
"Honk. Yonk. Ponk," he said, firmly.
Cousin Mildred gasped in wonder.
"Oh, explain," she pleaded, ardently. "Explain in our poor human
speech. Some message----"
William took fright. It was all turning out to be much more
complicated than he had expected. He hastily passed through the room
and out of the door, closing it noisily behind him. As he ran along
the passage came a sound like a crash of thunder. Outside in the
passage were Cousin Mildred's boots, William's father's boots, and
William's brother's boots, and into these charged William in his
headlong retreat. They slid noisily along the polished wooden surface
of the floor, ricochetting into each other as they went. Doors opened
suddenly and William's father collided with William's brother in the
dark passage, where they wrestled fiercely before they discovered each
other's identity.
"I heard that confounded noise and I came out----"
"So did I."
"Well, then, who _made_ it?"
"Who did?"
"If it's that wretched boy up to any tricks again----"
William's father left the sentence unfinished, but went with
determined tread towards his younger son's room. William was
discovered, carefully spreading a sheet over his bed and smoothing it
down.
Mr. Brown, roused from his placid slumbers, was a sight to make a
brave man quail, but the glance that William turned upon him was
guileless and sweet.
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