The pretty little face lengthened considerably.
"Oh, Humphie! must I really?"
"Why not?"
"Don't much like it, Humphie."
"What! afraid of poor old Dyson! Never mind, I'll do it."
And, putting the trumpet on the floor, Humphrey sprang upon the old man, and shook him so vigorously that he woke in a fright; but when he saw his little visitors, he sat down again with a smile, saying, "Aye, aye, Mamselle said I was to expect you; and how are ye to-day, my pretty dears?"
"Quite well, thank you," said Miles, drawing nearer.
Dyson put his hand behind his ear: "I don't hear what you say," he said, rather sadly; "I'm an old man, and I'm getting deafer every day."
Humphrey chuckled with delight, and Miles looked up smiling.