“No,” said Edred. “Of course, you’re not clever enough. But you might have read it in a book.”
“Well, I didn’t,” said Elfrida,—“so there!”
“If it was really true, you might have come back for me. You know how I’ve always wanted to meet a highwayman—you know you do.”
“How could I come back? How was I to get off the horse and run home and get in among the chests and the pigeon noises and come out here and take you back? The highwayman—Talbot, I mean—would have been gone long before we got back.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” said Edred obstinately. “You forget I was sitting on the clock and stopping it. There wasn’t any time while you were gone—if you were gone.”
“There was with me,” said Elfrida. “Don’t you see——”
“There wouldn’t have been if you’d come back where I was,” Edred interrupted.
“How can you be so aggravating?” Elfrida found suddenly that she was losing her temper. “You can’t be as stupid as that, really.”
“Oh, can’t I?” said Edred. “I can though, if I like. And stupider—much stupider,” he added darkly. “You wait.”
“Edred,” said his sister slowly and fervently, “sometimes I feel as if I must shake you.”