"Yes, you have," said she, playfully tickling his face with her riding switch.
"Oh, name it, Mona!"
"I have an uncle named Tresilian down here in this country."
"He who succeeded to Restormel Court, or some such place?"
"Exactly, Arthur—the same."
"Well?" asked Arthur, little thinking that she referred to his own and well-loved father.
"Papa thinks we shall spend our Christmas holidays with him.—he is so jolly!—and, somehow, it will go hard with me if I don't get an invitation for Mr. Arthur Lydiard."
An expression of thanks and quietude spread over the young man's face, mingled with great sadness, for she added,—
"I must go now—must leave you, Arthur."
"Oh, Mona! Mona! it seems so hard to lose you now!"