Mark rushed out with the bag to hide the guffaw ready to burst forth.
Then there was a short struggle, and the boy got his mouth free and began to roar with laughter, as he gazed merrily in his uncle’s face.
“Here’s a game!” he cried. “Bowled out, nunky. Look here, I won’t split. I want to go to the races too.”
“How dare you say anything about races, sir!”
“There, chuck it up, uncle. I’m a man of the world too. Give me a lift to the race, and shut your eyes and I’ll shut mine.”
“You treacherous young viper!”
“Oh, no, I’m not. Don’t you tell about Molly Simpkins—ahem!—coming here, and I won’t say a word to auntie about Lady T. and the races.”
“I’ll make no such bond with you, you dog!”
“Oh, yes, you will, uncle; and, look here, I haven’t done yet. You’re going to give me a fiver.”
“Money to bribe you? No!” pried Sir Hilton, firmly.