"I hope not," I said smilingly.
"Besides, he isn't old," chimed in Lady Betty, "at least not very," she qualified. "He hasn't even got a beard, and if he wasn't a little bit grown-up he couldn't afford to take us about," she added practically.
"I expect we'll have some jolly decent grub," I heard Dick whisper to Lionel. "Mrs. Putchy makes ripping pastry. I know, because we used to stay at his place sometimes before you came."
Marjorie looked up from her book and smiled and nodded across at me. "It's lovely," she said, as we drove along. "We're going to have a perfectly splendid day."
We were sitting three aside, and there was just comfortable room for us; and when we had got well into the country I began to tell the younger ones, Fidge and Lady Betty, a story. Marjorie closed her book too and leaned forward to listen, but the two big boys, evidently considering it infra dig. to listen to anything so childish, were eagerly comparing school experiences. Dick was at Harrow and Lionel at Marlborough, so they had a lot to talk about.
Presently, in the middle of my story, Marjorie called out, without looking up, "Move further along, Dick, don't crowd so."
"I'm not!" retorted Dick, "it's you. I can't move any further without crowding Lionel out of the trap."
"Oh, it's this cushion," cried Marjorie, turning about and trying to remove what looked at first like a yellow silk cushion beside her.
It was evidently too heavy though, and she gave a start as she touched it. "Why!" she exclaimed, "it's got something alive in it!"
We all turned around to see what she meant, and at once I knew that it was Shin Shira appearing.