"Cousin Blake, you're horrid!" the girl cried indignantly.
"The kid isn't used to talk like that, Blake," Kathleen told him. "Have some sense."
"Where would he get it?" young Larry asked insolently. For answer his brother cursed him.
"Cut that out, Blake," Gerald drawled, but his tone was edged.
"Then let that young pup keep a civil tongue in his head," Blake growled.
"Pup, hey?" said young Larry. "Well, I'll never make a yellow dog, anyway." The insinuation was obvious. Blake's face blackened with fury, but wheeling his horse he rode off after the girls. Gerald and Larry with brief nods to young Mackay, followed.
The latter stood looking after them, his heavy brows drawn in a frown. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he lengthened his stirrups and swung up on his pony.