‘No. I think it was a “pillow-scuffle” they called it.’
There is a solemn silence after this, and then, ‘A pillow-scuffle!’ says Betty faintly. ‘Are they so nice as that?’
‘They are. They are very nice, just like ourselves.’
This flagrant bit of self-appreciation goes for a wonder unnoticed beneath the weight of the late announcement.
‘Why on earth don’t they ask us to go up?’ says Dominick, who has many reasons for knowing he could do much with a pillow.
‘Well, they have asked you,’ cries Susan eagerly; ‘not for a pillow-match, but for afternoon tea in the woods to-morrow. She—Lady Forster, you know—was delighted when she heard of you boys, and she said I was to be sure and bring you. And there is to be a fire lit, and——’
‘Oh, Susan!’ cries Betty, in a deplorable tone, tears fast rising to her eyes; ‘I think you might have said you had a sister.’
‘So I did—so I did’—eagerly; ‘and you are to come too; and——’
‘Oh no! Not really!’
‘Yes, really.’