The Whispering Mountain Read Online Free Page B

take themselves off again—I’ve no intention of receiving them.” Mr. Hughes cast an angry glance at the cloaked figures of Mr. Dando and Arabis standing quietly in the shadows. “Bustle along now—make haste, pray!” he snapped at them. “I must go out, and I’ve no wish to leave the museum while there are strangers loitering outside it. Let me see you take your cart out of the yard, if you please!”
    â€œCertainly, sir,” Tom Dando replied with dignity. “We
have not the least wish to remain where our presence causes inconvenience.”
    Owen, half choked with grief and indignation, could say nothing. He stood speechless while Arabis turned the horse and led him out of the gate. Her father climbed back to his perch on the box. Then, realizing that unless he moved they would depart without another word, Owen flew after them and caught Arabis by the hand.
    â€œArabis, I am sorry, oh, I am sorry!”
    Her grave face broke into the smile with the three-cornered dimple.
    â€œProper old tartar your granda, isn’t he?” she whispered. “Poor Owen, there’s sorry I am that we came to bring trouble on you. Never mind, boy, we’ll take ourselves off quick.”
    â€œI wish I were going with you. I hate him!”
    â€œThere’s silly! When he’s giving you a home, and a fine education too? You make the most of it, boy!”
    â€œBut when shall I see you and Mr. Dando again?” he said forlornly.
    â€œDoes he ever let you out for a bit of pleasuring? We’ll be stopping over by Devil’s Leap for a week while the fair lasts—it’s only half a day’s ride. Would he let you go?”
    â€œNot while I’m in such disgrace, for sure.”
    â€œWelladay!” she said laughing.
    â€œOwen!” called his grandfather. “Come here directly!”
    â€œNever mind,” Arabis whispered. “We’re sure to meet again.” She gave his hand a hurried squeeze and jumped nimbly back into the wagon as it rolled away.
    Dumb with suppressed feeling, Owen moved back towards his grandfather.

    â€œNow sir, what have you to say for yourself?” barked Mr. Hughes. “Rogues and gypsies off the road, indeed! Never let such a thing occur again, I beg! And now , just now , too, when we are housing such a treasure in the museum. Thoughtless, reckless lad! I trust you did not speak of the Harp of Teirtu while you were hobnobbing with that shady pair?”
    â€œI—yes, I did, Grandfather.”
    Mr. Hughes raised his hands to heaven. “May all the saints give me patience! Why was I ever saddled with such a millstone round my neck? And now I must go off to see his grace and leave you— you —alone in charge of the harp! I’ve a good mind to take it with me, inclement though the weather be. But no,” he added, half to himself, “in the circumstances that would hardly be wise, until it is certain how matters stand. However, let me be sure that all doors and windows are double-locked, barred, and chained. I have enough to contend with, dear knows, in this town of cockatrices, without risking the loss of my good name. Boy! follow me.”
    In sullen silence Owen accompanied his grandfather as they made the rounds of the windows and the front and back doors. All were securely fastened.
    â€œVery well,” Mr. Hughes said at last. “Now—while I am gone, unbar to no one— no one at all, do you understand me, boy? No respectable person should be abroad at this hour, in any case. If there should be a knock, open the slot in the outer door, ask the business of whomever it be, and tell them to return in the morning. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes, sir.”

    â€œAnd don’t show me that sulky face! While I am gone you may occupy yourself usefully by dusting the glass cases and polishing the Roman, Saxon, and Danish weapons. You will find your supper in a bowl. Do not