And out of an envelope which she had just taken from the letter-box she handed him a note, which he pulled open and then burst out, ‘Cousin David! Hurrah! Scrumptious!’ commencing a war-dance at the same moment.
‘What is it? Has David asked you?’ demanded both his sisters at the same moment.
‘Hurrah! Yes, it is from him. “My dear Fergus, I hope”—hurrah—“Harry, mm—mm—mm—brothers, 20th mm—mm. Your affectionate cousin, David Merrifield.”’
‘Let me read it to you,’ volunteered Gillian.
‘Wouldn’t you like it?’
‘How can you be so silly, Ferg? You can’t read it yourself. You don’t know whether he really asks you.’
Fergus made a face, and bolted upstairs to gloat, and perhaps peruse the letter, while Valetta rushed after him, whether to be teased or permitted to assist might be doubtful.
‘He really does ask him,’ said Aunt Jane. ‘Your cousin David, I mean. He says that he and Harry can put up all the three boys between them, and that they will be very useful in the Christmas festivities of Coalham.’
‘It is very kind of him,’ said Gillian in a depressed tone.
‘Fergus will be very happy.’