Chapter XXXIII.
“A Lesson in French.”
“Here we are!” Steve joyously exclaimed, as the last one of the plotters arrived at the rendezvous in Mr. Lawrence’s garden. “And now, then, let us go to work.”
“Are you perfectly sure this Marmaduke will believe the letter is genuine, and fly to the rescue?” Henry asked dubiously.
“He would believe anything, Henry,” Charles rejoined “And the more romantic the letter is, the more he will believe it.”
“Why,” said Steve, “I shouldn’t be surprised if he falls in love when he meets you all tricked up—tricked out—as a heroine!”
Henry smiled grimly, but said nothing.
“Oh, no,” said George dogmatically. “Henry’s eyes are blue, and so are Marmaduke’s; and you know—at least, I’ve often read—that people alike in that respect seldom fall in love with each other.”
Oh, how indignant Henry was! Who was this impertinent little boy, who had opinions (and such opinions!) on all topics?