He stood perfectly still; Miss Sophronia still clutched and shook him, muttering inarticulately; but now Margaret seized and dragged her off by main force. "Cousin Sophronia!" she cried. "How can you--what can you be thinking of? This is Mr. Merryweather, I tell you, the son of Uncle John's old schoolmate. Uncle John asked him to call. I am sure you are not well, or have made some singular mistake." "I don't believe a word of it!" said Miss Sophronia. "Not one single word! What was he making that noise for, I should like to know?" Mr. Merryweather answered with a calm which he was far from feeling. His pet necktie was probably ruined, his collar crumpled, very likely his coat torn. He had taken pains with his toilet, and now he had been set upon and harried, by some one he had never seen, but whom he felt sure to be the Gorgon who had glared at him out the window several days before. This was a horrid old lady; he saw no reason why he should be attacked in the night by horrid old ladies, when he was behaving beautifully. "I am sorry!" he said, rather stiffly. "I was not conscious of speaking loud. Miss Montfort asked who it was, and I told her. If I have offended _her_, I am ready to apologise--and withdraw." This sounded theatrical, it occurred to him; but then, the whole scene was fit for the variety stage. Poor Margaret felt a moment of despair. What should she do? "Mr. Merryweather," she said, aloud, "Miss Montfort has been much startled. Just before you came, we heard a noise; rather a strange noise, which we could not account for. I think her nerves are somewhat shaken. She will be better in a moment. And--and I was just going to the summer-house, to call the children. Would you come with me, I wonder?" Miss Sophronia clamoured that she could not be left alone, but for once Margaret was deaf to her appeals. She was too angry; her guest--that is, her uncle's guest--to be set upon and shaken, as if he were a naughty child caught stealing apples,--it was too shameful! He would think they were all out of their senses. "Oh, I am so sorry! So sorry!" she found herself saying aloud. "Mr. Merryweather, I am so mortified, so ashamed! What can I say to you?" "Say!" said Gerald, his stiffness gone in an instant. "Don't say anything, Miss Montfort. I--I don't mean that; I mean, there's nothing _to_ say, don't you know? Why, it wasn't your fault! Who ever thought of its being your fault?" "I ought to have recognised you sooner!" said Margaret. "It was pretty dark, and we had really been startled, and my cousin is very nervous. If you would _please_ overlook it this time I should be so grateful!"