The ubiquitous twins were in the stableyard when he rode in, raiding the corn bin for sustenance for their fantails. "Hullo, Jim, my boy," said Joan. "You're quite a stranger."
"You'll stay to lunch, of course," said Nancy. "How are the birds at Mountfield? I think we ought to do very well here this year."
"Where is Cicely?" asked Jim, ignoring these pleasantries.
"She's out of doors somewhere," said Joan. "We'll help you find her. We ought to be going in to lessons again, but starling won't mind."
"I can find her myself, thanks," said Jim. "Is she in the garden?"
"We'll show you," said Nancy. "You can't shake us off. We're like the limpets of the rock."
But here Miss Bird appeared at the schoolroom window, adjuring the twins to come in at once. "Oh, how do you do, Jim?" she cried, nodding her head in friendly welcome. "Do you want to find Cicely she has gone down to the lake to sketch."
"Bother!" exclaimed Joan. "Starling is so officious."
"You will find our sister in the Temple of Melancholy," said Nancy. "It will be your part to smooth the lines of trouble from her brow."
"Oh, coming, coming, Miss Bird!" called out Joan. "We've only got an hour more, Jim—spelling and dictation; then we will come and look you up."