“Let it be a jig,” Bob answered promptly and taking her hand he began the clattery dance while Jim played an accompaniment on the mouth organ. But in a few minutes Mrs. Fenton had to stop for breath.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she demanded. “I never supposed that any young one could do it these days.”
“In school,” Bob answered. “You ought to see Jim Highland Fling.”
“What’s all the shouting about?” Mr. Fenton asked. He had just come in with the brimming milk pails.
“Look at the weather,” Jim laughed.
“It’s enough to make an airplane do a tail spin,” Bob added.
“No doubt, but I hope Her Highness doesn’t do any more—”
“More?” The boys chorused.
“Canadian chap telephoned me yesterday to inquire if you live here, and he said that you two had made the country safe for the Mounted Police—”
“Aw, go on,” Bob exclaimed in disgust.