"He has promised to write to me," said Tessa rather wistfully. "Do you think he will forget to, Aunt Mary?"
"I'll see he doesn't," said Mrs. Ralston.
"Oh, thank you." Tessa embraced her tenderly. "And I'll write to you very, very often. P'raps I'll write in French some day. Would you like that?"
"Oh, very much," said Mrs. Ralston.
"Then I will," promised Tessa. "And oh, here they are at last! Take care of Whisky for me while I go and meet them!"
She was gone with the words—a little, flying figure with arms outspread, rushing to meet her friends.
"That child gets wilder and more harum-scarum every day," observed Lady Harriet, who was passing The Grand Stand in her carriage at the moment. "She will certainly go the same way as her mother if that very easy-going parson has the managing of her."
The easy-going parson, however, had no such misgivings. He caught the child up in his arms with a whoop of welcome.
"Well run, my Princess Bluebell! Hullo, Tommy! Who are you saluting so deferentially?"
"Only that vicious old white cat, Lady Harriet," said Tommy. "Hullo, Tessa! Your legs get six inches longer every time I look at 'em. Put her down, St. Bernard! She's going to race me to The Grand Stand."