“No, no; nonsense. Oh, I say, though, I wish you would.”
“Really, Captain Rolph, I don’t understand you,” said Lucy, who was in a flutter of fright, mischief and triumph combined.
“Oh yes, you do,” he said, “but hold hard a minute. Back directly.”
He ran from her out to where something was hanging on a broken branch of a pine, and returned directly, putting on a flannel cricketing cap, and a long, hooded ulster, which, when buttoned up, gave him somewhat the aspect of a friar of orders grey, who had left his beads at home.
“You do understand me,” he said, not noticing the mirthful twinkle in Lucy’s eye at his absurd appearance. “Oh yes, you do. It’s all right. I say, Lucy Alleyne, what a one you are.”
Lucy’s eyebrows went up a little at this remark, but she did not assume displeasure, she only looked at him inquiringly.
“Oh, it’s all right,” he said again. “I am glad I met you, it’s so precious dull down here.”
“What, when you have all your training to see to, Captain Rolph.”
“Oh, yes; awfully dull. You see Glynne doesn’t take any interest in a fellow’s pursuits. She used to at first, but now it’s always books.”
“But you should teach her to be interested, Captain Rolph.”