“You daren’t!” said Edred.
“Do you dare me to?”
“Yes,” said Edred fiercely.
Of course, you are aware that after that, by all family laws, Elfrida was obliged to shake him. She did, and burst into tears. He looked at her for a moment and—but no—tears are unmanly. I would not betray the weakness of my hero. Let us draw a veil, or take a turn round the castle and come back to them presently.
It is just as well that we went away when we did, for we really turned our backs on a most unpleasant scene. And now that we come back to them, though crying is still going on, Elfrida is saying that she is very sorry, and is trying to find her handkerchief to lend to Edred, whose own is unexpectedly mislaid.
“Oh, all right,” he says, “I’m sorry too. There! But us saying we’re sorry won’t make us unquarrel. That’s the worst of it. We shan’t be able to find The Door for three days now. I do wish we hadn’t. It is sickening.”
“Never mind,” said Elfrida; “we didn’t have a real I’ll-never-speak-to-you-again-you-see-if-I-do quarrel, did we?”
“I don’t suppose it matters what sort of quarrel you had,” said the boy in gloom. “Look here—I’ll tell you what—you tell me all about it over again and I’ll try to believe you. I really will, on the honour of an Arden.”
So she told him all over again.
“And where,” said Edred, when she had quite finished,—“where did you put the jewels?”