The old gentleman listened with his busy gray eyebrows knitted and his mouth pursed into a thin line.
"I shall immediately take steps to ensure that my dog has no further opportunities of annoying you," he remarked stiffly, and took his departure.
"Who is he ?" whispered Ingred, as the footsteps on the other side of the wall shuffled away.
"His name's Mr.Hardcastle.

He's retired, and lives there with a housekeeper.

Great Scot! I've put my foot in it, haven't I?
Who'd have thought he was just going to pop his head up?
Dad was going to ask him to lend us his garden-roller, but it's no use now.

I expect I've made an enemy of him for life!" "I hope he means to keep that savage dog fastened up," said Ingred.
"It's a horrid idea to think that it may, any time, pounce over the wall at us.

It's like having a wolf loose in the garden." As a matter of fact, Mr.Hardcastle kept his word in a way that the Saxons least anticipated.