"Like mine?" He wondered why his mother should be so suddenly dragged in.
She laughed with a bright air of being much entertained.
"Do you remember how Mrs. Muir whisked you away from London the day after she found out that you were playing with my vagabond of a Robin—unknowing of your danger? There was a mother for you! It nearly killed my little pariah."
She rose and held out her hand.
"I have not really had my three minutes, but 'I must not detain you any longer,' as Royal Highnesses say. I must go."
"Why?" he ejaculated with involuntary impatience.
"Because Eileen Erwyn is standing with her back markedly turned towards us, pretending to talk. I know the expression of her little ears and she has just laid them back close to her head, which means business. Why do you all at once look quite like Lord Coombe?" Perhaps he did look a trifle like his relative. He had risen to his feet.
"I was not aware that I was whisked away from London," he said.
"I was," with pretty impudence. "You were bundled back to Scotland almost before daylight. Lord Coombe knew about it. We laughed immensely together. It was a great joke because Robin fainted and fell into the mud, or something of the sort, when you didn't turn up the next morning. She almost pined away and died of grief, tiresome little thing! I told you Eileen was preparing to assault. Here she is! Hordes of girls will now advance upon you. So glad to have had you even for a few treasured seconds. Good afternoon."