"Oh no," said Bertram. "I'm going to buy Miss Moxley a parrot, because we lost hers."
"Are you, Bertram?" John exclaimed with some emotion. "That shows a fine spirit, my boy. I'm very pleased with you."
"Yes," said Bertram, "because then with what you gave V we'll buy a monkey at the same time."
"Good heavens," cried John, turning pale. "A monkey?"
"That will be nice, won't it, Uncle John?" Viola asked, tenderly.
But perhaps it would escape from an upper window like the parrot, John thought, before Christmas.
When the children had been sent upstairs and Mrs. Worfolk had gone back to Hampstead, John told his brother that he should not stop to dinner after all.
"Oh, all right," George said. "But I had something to talk over with you. Those confounded children put it clean out of my mind. I had a strange letter from Mama this week. It seems that Hugh has got into rather a nasty fix. She doesn't say what it is, and I don't know why she wrote to me of all people. But she's evidently frightened about Hugh and asks me to approach you on his behalf."
"What on earth has he been doing now?" asked John, gloomily.
"I should think it was probably money," said George. "Well, I told you I'd had a lot of worry lately, and I have been very worried about this news of Hugh. Very worried. I'm afraid it may be serious this time. But if I were you, old chap, I should refuse to do anything about it. Why should he come to you to get him out of a scrape? You've done enough for him, in my opinion. You mustn't let people take advantage of your good nature, even if they are relations. I'm sorry my kids have been a bit of a nuisance, but, after all, they are still only kids, and Hugh isn't. He's old enough to know better. Mama says something about the police, but that may only be Hugh's bluff. I shouldn't worry myself if I were you. It's no good for us all to worry."