Chorus. Ri-toorul-loor, rul-loor, rul-loor-rul. Hip, hip, hurrah!
Hollo!’ ”
The sensible chorus was shouted at the utmost pitch of the voices of the assembled youths, who waved hats, hands, and handkerchiefs, during the process.
“Bravissimo!” exclaimed Reginald, quite red with his exertions, and beaming with excitement. “But my beautiful voice is very unruly; the last few times I have tried to sing, it has been quite disobedient. I think it must be cracked, at last.”
“Are you not pleased?” said Louis, archly.
“Not particularly,” replied Reginald.
“You said you should be, last Christmas. Do you remember the ladies at grandpapa's?”
“Well, there is that comfort at any rate,” said Reginald, “we shan't have any more of their humbug; but think of the dear old madrigals, and—it's no laughing matter, Mr. Louis, for all your fun.”
“Acknowledge, then, that you spoke rashly, when you said you should be glad of it,” said Louis, who was full of merriment at his brother's misfortune.
And now Vernon, Arthur, and Frank Digby pressed forward, to bid good-bye.