The boy Jock approached the tea-table, took up a glass, put it to his eye and filled it rapidly.
“You horrible boy, you could see that glass has been used.”
In a high round voice rather like an angel's, Jock answered:
“All right, Mother; I'll get rid of it,” and rapidly swallowing the yellow liquor, took up another glass.
Mrs. Larne laughed.
“What am I to do with him?”
A loud shriek prevented a response. Phyllis, who had taken her brother by the ear to lead him to the door, let him go to clasp her injured self.
Bob Pillin went hastening towards her; and following the young man with her chin, Mrs. Larne said, smiling:
“Aren't those children awful? He's such a nice fellow. We like him so much, Guardy.”
The old man grinned. So she was making up to that young pup! Rosamund Larne, watching him, murmured: