"For all his noble rage, I noticed he took thought to grab up his cap and his overcoat from the hall, as he wafted himself away.

And he still had his arctics on, from this afternoon.

He won't--" "But suppose he should really go over to one of the neighbors," urged the Mistress, "and tell such an awful story as he threatened to?
Or suppose--" "Not a chance!" the Master reassured her.

"Now that the summer people are away, there isn't an occupied house within half a mile of here.

And he's not going to trudge a half-mile through the snow, in this bitter cold, for the joy of telling lies.