'It's on the floor,' she cried through the keyhole; 'I didn't tell a story—and don't be angry, boys, dear, it's all for your good!'
Then, without waiting to hear their indignant outcry, she scudded along the corridor and down the staircase, with the sounds of muffled shouts and kicks growing fainter behind her.
'I don't mind so much now,' she thought; 'they'll be awfully angry when they come out—but the Indians will have gone by that time!'
Clarence had already retreated to his stronghold when she entered the drawing-room.
Everything seemed as usual; Uncle Lambert, in evening dress, was playing desultory snatches from Ruddigore. Mrs. Jolliffe came down presently, and he took her in to dinner with one of his tiresome jokes. No one seemed at all anxious about poor Tinling, fighting all alone down in the paddock.
She curled herself up on a settee by one of the open windows, and listened, trying to catch the sound of Indian yells. 'Hazel,' she said anxiously, 'do you think the Indians will hurt Tinling?'
Hazel gave a little laugh. 'I don't think the army's in any very great danger, Cis,' she replied.
'Hazel doesn't believe there are any Indians at all,' explained Hilary.
'Well,' said Cecily, softly, 'I've kept the army out of danger, whether there are or not!'