"You can't," cries Mabel in turn. "Nurse says I'm twice the child that you are."
"Your legs are as short as a pin," roars Tommy; "you couldn't run."
"I can. I can. I can," says Mabel, on the verge of a violent flood of tears.
"Well, we'll see," says Mr. Dysart, who now begins to think he has thrown himself away on a silly Hussar regiment, when he ought to have taken rank as a distinguished diplomat. "Come, I'll start you both down the hill, and whichever reaches Bridget first wins the day."
Instantly both children spring to the front of the path.
"You're standing before me, Tommy."
"No, I'm not."
"You're cheating—you are!"
"Cheat yourself! Mr. Dysart, ain't I all right?"
"I think you should give her a start; she's the girl, you know," says Dysart. "There now, go. That's very good. Five yards, Tommy, is a small allowance for a little thing like Mabel. Steady now, you two! One—Good gracious, they're off," says he, turning to Miss Kavanagh with a sigh of relief mingled with amusement. "They had no idea of waiting for more than one signal. I hope they will meet this Bridget, and get back to their mother."