“To be married.”
“Heu!” said Bob in a disgusted tone.
“But that’s not all,” went on Doris. “She’s going with Mr Fanshawe, and nobody knows about it, only me and you and she and Patsy. She told me if we were good we might see her off; they are going at two o’clock in the morning.”
“My eye!” said Bob, lighting up. “They ain’t running away, are they?”
“They are. They’re running away from the old General and Mr Boxall—going to Dublin to be married. They’re going in the dogcart from the stable-yard—but, mind you, don’t say a word to any one.”
“What do you take me for?” said Bob. “I say, Doris!”
“Yes?”
“Wouldn’t it be prime if the old General chased them?”
“Don’t!” said Doris.
“I was only thinking of him running after them with his great red face, an’ shouting to them to stop,” said Bob. He was kneeling on the window-seat of the schoolroom and looking out over the park. “I left that motor-car in the hall yesterday,” went on Bob, “and he hit his toe against it and sent it skidding across the floor, and he said, ‘Confound those children! they’re always in the way when they’re not wanted, they or their beastly toys.’ I was leaning over the banisters and I jolly nearly dropped a marble on his head. Who’s that coming?”