“There are carp in the pools,” said Herbert.
“We live outside,” said Mrs. Wyndwood.
“It’s nearer over the cliff and more ladylike,” added Olive.
“It was hardly fair to Mr. Matthew Strang, though,” Eleanor remarked, smiling. “We’ve all learned the way in the daylight. When you see it in the morning, Mr. Strang, you’ll find it sometimes within a few inches of the sheer precipice, and if you had caught hold of the bushes to stay your fall you would have dropped them like a hornet’s nest. We ought to have warned him—in the dark, too.”
“If we had warned him he would have fallen,” laughed Olive, gayly. “Anybody could walk a four-inch plank over a precipice if he thought it was on the ground. Ignorance is salvation. But you will have to come in, Strangs, and brush yourselves before you go. What a nuisance your both having the same name. When I insult Mr. Herbert I shall excite the animosity of Mr. Matthew, and vice versa. I really think, Nor, we shall have to call them by their Christian names.”
“Only when they’re together,” said Mrs. Wyndwood, smiling.
“We must always stick together, Matt,” cried Herbert, with jocose enthusiasm. “Your hand, Matt.”
“We might call one the Painter,” began Mrs. Wyndwood, “and the other—”
“No, that’s ungrateful,” Olive remonstrated, “after the beautiful success Mr. Herbert has made of you.”
“I meant Mr. Herbert,” replied Eleanor, roguishly, and for once Olive had no retort ready.