“Come, Kate, don’t talk bosh out of your books. What did they do to you? They didn’t lick you, did they?”
“No, no; nonsense,” said Kate, rather affronted; “but they wanted to make me forget all that I cared for, and they really did shut me up because I said I would not write a falsehood to please them! They did, Charlie!” and her eyes shone.
“Well, I always knew they must be a couple of horrid old owls,” began Charlie.
“Oh! I didn’t mean Aunt Jane,” said Kate, feeling a little compunction. “Ah!” with a start and scream, “who is coming?” as she heard steps behind them.
“You little donkey, you’ll be off! Who should it be but Armyn?”
For Armyn generally overtook his brother on a Saturday, and walked home with him for the Sunday.
Charles hailed him with a loud “Hollo, Armyn! What d’ye think I’ve got here?”
“Kate! Why, how d’ye do! Why, they never told me you were coming to see us.”
“They didn’t know,” whispered Kate.
“She’s run away, like a jolly brick!” said Charlie, patting the pony vehemently as he made this most inappropriate comparison.