Here the luncheon-bell rang. Directly after, the study door was thrown open, and Doctor Ward and Donald came out. The father’s arm was thrown across his tall son’s shoulder, in a boyish fashion that the doctor often used.
“Don’t tell the kids more than you can help,” said Donald, hurriedly, as they came out, not aware that the children knew anything.
“Well, Lady Greasewrister and Madam Van Twister, her ladyship’s sister,” he called out, as he entered the dining-room, with the assumption of his usual teasing manner. Doctor Ward had stepped into his office for a moment, and the others had not yet come down. To his immense surprise and embarrassment, Eunice instantly burst out crying.
“Hallo, Waterworks! what’s wrong?” he exclaimed, in dismay. Tears were rare with any of the children.
“Oh, Donald, I can’t stand it! Will it hurt you?” wailed Eunice, completely overcome by the sight of the big, handsome fellow, and associating him suddenly with Cricket’s image of a dangling rope. “How long will you have to do it?”
“Do what?” stared Donald.
“And will you have to be rusty-coated, too?” burst in Cricket, very red as to her cheeks and very shiny as to her eyes. “How do they put it on? Donald, I don’t care if the President himself does it, I’ll bite him till he’s all chewed up!”
“Hal-lo!” whistled Donald. The others not having arrived yet, the three were still alone. “What have you two kids got in your heads?”
“We heard what father said when the door was open,” confessed Eunice, honestly. “We couldn’t help it. He said you’d have to be suspended—”
“Or rusty-coated,” put in Cricket.