Queenie must be forgiven if she used slang words now and then. With four brothers to teach her, she could hardly have escaped.
Phil looked at his sister, and winked his eye in a very knowing way.
“I’ve not got into a row at all. I just cut and ran before there was time for the explosion. I’m a fugitive, Queenie! I’ve run away! and now you’ve got to hide me!”
“Oh, Phil! Why!”
The boy showed his white teeth in one of his own merriest smiles.
“Hush! that’s part of the plan. I want to give them a good scare, and then they’ll be so glad to get me safe home they’ll never think of putting me into disgrace; and we’ll just have a jolly summer together, Queenie, you and I, until September comes and I go to Eton. You’ll help me, won’t you? and then we’ll have the best times we ever had in our lives.”
Queenie’s eyes sparkled.
“Oh, Phil, how splendid! But won’t they send you back to Dr. Steele’s?”
“Not they! Besides, he would not have me at any price, the old buffer. He says I’m worse than all the rest of the four dozen put together. Oh no, trust him! He’ll not have me back; and if we only manage to give them a scare at this end, I shall be received with open arms, and they’ll be so glad to get me home safe that they’ll never remember to scold.”
“But what have you done, Phil?” asked Queenie. “I want to know all about it.”