Chapter Eleven.
Dreams—and a Visit.
“I wonder why Mr Wyvern never comes over to see us now,” remarked small Frank Le Sage, one morning.
“I believe he and Lala have had a row,” rejoined smaller Charlie; for thus were they wont at times to abbreviate their sister’s uncommon, and to them high-sounding name.
She for her part smiled. She would not “shut them up,” she liked to hear them talk about him.
“Man, but he’s a fine chap,” went on the first speaker. “I seem to miss him no end.”
“Rather,” assented the other. “And doesn’t he just know how to make stunning catapults!”
“And to use them too,” came the rejoinder.
Lalanté, who had been contemplating the small speakers with a smile of tender approval, burst out laughing at this ingenuous and whole-hearted appreciation of the absent one’s claim to esteem.