“You’re a bad boy. All this is subversive of discipline.” But she told Minerva to do as Mr. Warden wished, and, Tom leading the way, we all went out of the house feeling that we were on the verge of a surprise. Out the front door and north of the house we went and then around to the lesser orchard at the back of it and there, between two apple trees, stood a “summer house,” over the dilapidated door of which was a sign reading “Tramp’s Rest.” We who had bathed that morning recognized in it the bath house in which we had dressed. “How did you get that here?” said several of us at once. “If you don’t mind having it on your land,” said Hepburn, “I’d like to make you a present of it. I took a fancy to it this morning and this afternoon Tom and I drove over there on our way from town and brought it back.” “Yes, but who said you could take it?” said Benedict. “Oh, I bought it this morning. Mr. Sibthorp and I found out the owner and he was willing to sell it for a song.” “But how did you get it here on that wagon?” “Oh, we didn’t. We had this—er—Bert’s horses—but an Irishman of the name of Casey loaned us his hay wagon and he felt insulted when I offered to pay him for the use of it. He really became violently abusive, don’t you know, and used highly colored language, but we could see that he meant well. Really I thought him something of a character. Didn’t you think him a character, Mr. Sibthorp?” “He certainly was,” said Sibthorp. “He had no opinion at all of Bert’s horses. Said he had an—ould—ould—” “Ould scut,” I suggested. “That’s it. Said he had an ould scut of a horse that would walk right away from Bert’s pair, and that any time we wanted to take the young ladies out for a ride to come and take him right out of the stall, whether _he_ was there or not. His language was ornamented with picturesque oaths that wouldn’t sound well here, but they were awfully funny.” “I guess he said nothing that he wouldn’t say before anyone,” said Ethel. Sibthorp gave her a whimsical look. “Excuse me,” said he, “but I guess that when _you’ve_ heard him talk he has repressed his vocabulary.” “Why,” said Ethel, “you know he came with berries the morning after you came.” “Oh,” said Ellery, “he had sworn off that morning. You ought to have heard him to-day.” “Perfectly willing to let it go at imagining,” said Ethel. And then Minerva came out with the lilting walk that was hers when she was happy. She bore a tray and set it down on a rustic table that I remembered to have seen in the furniture store at Egerton the week before.