"Come," he said, shortly, "will you?"
Bob pointed a theatrical finger at them.
"Do you, Dilly, being of sound mind, body, or estate, give me your solemn word of honour as a gentleman to escort Miss Willins wherever she wants to go? Do you?"
"And drop me when your back's turned," interposed the woman, laconically, but not angrily. Her interest was awakened, perhaps her sense of humour, too, and she awaited developments philosophically.
"Never a bit," Bob returned. "You don't know old Dill. If he says it, he'll do it, if there were what-do-you-call-'ems in the way."
"I give you my word of honour," said Lawrence, steadily.
"And you'll never tell Helen? Because if you do, she tells Uncle Owen, and it's all up with Robbie."
"I will never tell her."
"On your word of honour?"
"On my word of honour."