"She's not a bad sort, the Tintinnabula!" Gerald went on, meditatively. "She doesn't harry a fellow, as some fellows' sisters do. She pokes you up and smooths you down at the same time, somehow. That's the way a girl ought to be—my opinion. Come along, Ferguson, and let's do something to celebrate!"
"All right!" said Phil. "What shall we do?"
"Oh, any old thing! Come along!"
And they went and wrestled in the conservatory, and broke three flower-pots, and had a delightful morning.
CHAPTER XII.
JIMMY'S POND.
So it came to pass that, as Jack Ferrers was strolling about the garden with Hugh after dinner, talking about old times, and pausing at every other step to greet some favourite shrub or stick or stone,—it came to pass that he heard steps at the gate, and, turning, saw the Messrs. Merryweather, holding themselves very straight, and looking very sheepish. They had compromised with Bell on skating dress, instead of the detested "good clothes," and Gerald carried several pairs of skates in his hand. They fumbled with the latch a moment, during which Jack felt extremely young, and was conscious of redness creeping up to his ears. But then, they were quite as red, he reflected; and, after all, as Hilda said, he was two years older than these boys, and if they really were all she made them out to be—why—
So it was a very different-looking Jack who advanced to meet the embarrassed boys at the gate. It was perhaps the first time in his young life that Gerald had been embarrassed, and he found the sensation unpleasant.