Hortense was displeased at his doubt.
"Well, you'll see," said she.
It was nearly sundown; so Andy ran home, and Hortense returned to the house to change her dress for supper.
Said she to Highboy, "To-night you and Malay Kris and I are going to hide in the secret room in the attic. There Andy will join us, and we will watch for Jeremiah and the other."
"I do not wish to see Jeremiah or the other," said Highboy.
"Nevertheless, you must come," said Hortense firmly.
"Alas," mourned Highboy. "Never again will I stand on a good Brussels carpet and see the sunshine pour in the south window. Many a sad year shall I weep for the last embraces of my brother Lowboy and the dull life of home."
Hortense was struck to admiration by these moving words.
"How lovely," said she. "I didn't know you wrote poetry."
"I have a drawer full," said Highboy, perking up a bit.