"
"And Bill--I mean the stranger--sitting on the beer-barrel," said Mr.
Cooper, gloomily.
"You can bring your beer with you," said his sister, sharply. "Come
along."
Mr. Cooper grinned, and, placing a couple of bottles in his coat
pockets, followed the two ladies to the house. Seated at the kitchen
table, he grinned again, as a persistent drumming took place on the
cellar door. His wife smiled, and a faint, sour attempt in the same
direction appeared on the face of Mrs. Simpson.
"Open the door!" bellowed an indignant voice. "Open the door!"
Mrs. Simpson, commanding silence with an uplifted finger, proceeded to
carve the beef. A rattle of knives and forks succeeded.
"O-pen-the-door!" said the voice again.
"Not so much noise," commanded Mr. Cooper. "I can't hear myself eat."
"Bob!" said the voice, in relieved accents, "Bob! Come and let me
out."
Mr. Cooper, putting a huge hand over his mouth, struggled nobly with his
feelings.
"Who are you calling 'Bob'?" he demanded, in an unsteady voice. "You
keep yourself to yourself. I've heard all about you. You've got to
stay there till my brother-in-law comes home.
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