She immersed herself in her Pall Mall, and left Babie to exchange scraps of intelligence from the brother’s letters, and compare notes on the journey.
By-and-by Mrs. Evelyn retired into her book, and the two little girls put their heads together over a newly-arrived acrostic, calling on Elfie to assist them.
“Do you like acrostics?” she said, peeping up through her long eyelashes at the old general.
“Oh, don’t tease Uncle James,” hastily interposed Sydney, as yet inexperienced in the difference between the importunities of a merely nice-looking niece, and the blandishments of a brilliant stranger. Sir James said kindly—
“What, my dear?”
And when Elvira replied—
“Do help us to guess this. What does man love most below?” he put on a droll face, and answered—
“His pipe.”
“O Uncle James, that’s too bad,” cried Sydney.
“If Jock had made this acrostic, it might be pipe,” said Babie; “but this is Armine’s.”