The two raised themselves to listen, in breathless silence.
"Perhaps it is some one looking for lodgings," Teddie whispered mischievously. "Now remember, Hazel, twenty guineas a week for the west wing, garrets five shillings each, and the basement seven-and-six."
"It is Hugh," the girl exclaimed, springing to her feet and running to meet the fourth Le Mesurier boy, who, hot, dusty, and tired, yet returned his sister's greeting affectionately, if somewhat shame-facedly, as he became aware of the presence of his brother.
Teddie, at Hazel's exclamation, had sunk back into his former position and now lay, cool and comfortable, complacently regarding the new-comer with twinkling eyes.
"Hallo!" he said brightly. "So you have turned up, have you? I hope you will be comfortable. I have spent a very pleasant couple of days here myself. I ran down, without lunch, on Monday, and Mrs. Doidge has been feeding me up ever since." And Teddie gave vent to a sigh of satisfaction.
"Slack beast," murmured Hugh disgustedly. Yielding to the silent entreaty of Hazel's little hand and seating himself upon some moss, he threw off his hat and proceeded to mop his damp face.
"What is that?" Teddie asked innocently. "But, I say, you do look hot, old fellow. Walked up, I suppose?"
"Ugh," grunted Hugh.
"Doubtless in some perturbation of mind," Teddie continued sympathetically. "Very heating, this weather. And your bag, too—had books in it, perhaps?"
A slightly sardonic smile overspread Hugh's countenance.