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 CHAPTER IX.

NEIGHBORLY AMENITIES.

Mrs. Merriman's bell rang violently once, twice, and the lady laid aside her book, exclaiming:

"Who can that be, so late as this? Half-past nine, and almost bed-time. Run, Michael. Though I thought you'd gone upstairs before now. It takes the maid so long to answer. There it is again. Hurry. Dear, dear! I hope it isn't a telegram."

"I'm going, Mary," called the lad to the maid, as he rushed to the door.

Peter stood outside, bareheaded and looking almost white in his terror.

"For mercy's sake, Massa Michael, is there a woman in this house?"

"Of course. Lots of them. Grandmother, Mary, waitress, Samanda—Why?"