"Where the devil are those blacks?" said Dorothy, biting off her words
with a crisp snap that startled me more than her profanity. "Cato! Where
are you, you lazy--"
"Ahm hyah, Miss Dorry," came a patient voice from the kitchen stairs.
"Then bring something to eat--bring it to the gun-room
instantly--something for Captain Ormond--and a bottle of Sir Lupus's own
claret--and two glasses--"
"Three glasses!" cried Ruyven.
"Four!" "Five!" shouted Harry and Cecile.
"Six!" added Samuel; and little Benny piped out, "Theven!"
"Then bring two bottles, Cato," called out Dorothy.
"I want some small-beer!" protested Benny.
"Oh, go suck your thumbs," retorted Ruyven, with an elder brother's
brutality; but Dorothy ordered the small-beer, and bade the
negro hasten.
"We all mean to bear you company, Cousin," said Ruyven, cheerfully,
patting my arm for my reassurance; and truly I lacked something of
assurance among these kinsmen of mine, who appeared to lack none.
"You spoke of me as Captain Ormond," I said, turning with a smile to
Dorothy.
"Oh, it's all one," she said, gayly; "if you're not a captain now, you
will be soon, I'll wager--but I'm not to talk of that before the
children--"
"You may talk of it before me," said Ruyven. "Harry, take Benny and Sam
and Cecile out of earshot--"
"Pooh!" cried Harry, "I know all about Sir John's new regiment--"
"Will you hush your head, you little fool!" cut in Dorothy.
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