Seraph, and I could make him understand what had happened, though we all tried at once.
"And you mean to tell me that he's in there?" he asked, at last, grinning broadly.
"Sorra a place else," replied Mary Ellen, "and you're to guard the door till the police comes."
"Guard nothink," said Mr. Watlin, belligerently, "I'll go right in and tackle him single-handed."
With one accord The Seraph and I flung ourselves before the door.
"You shan't hurt him," we cried, "he's our own Granfa! We'll fight you first."
Mr. Watlin made some playful passes at our stomachs. "Let's all have a fight," he chaffed. Then he said—"Hullo, here's the old 'un himself, and quite a character to be sure. No wonder Mrs. 'Andsomebody is in a taking."
The door had opened behind us; Granfa stood revealed, wearing his ragged coat and hat, and carrying his stick and little bundle, wrapped in a red handkerchief.
"Don't 'ee get in a frizz, my dears, about me," he said with dignity. "I be leaving this instant moment. As for you—" addressing Mr. Watlin—"you be a gert beefy critter, but don't be too sure you could tackle me, single-handed. I be terr'ble full of power when I'm roused, and it takes a deal to calm me down again." And
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