"No, sir, I won't! And if you say that again, I'll bunt you up against the wall. Easy enough to get a headache. I don't know whether I shall eat hot doughnuts, or just ram my head against the horse-chestnut-tree till it aches; but I'll get the headache, you may bet your boots—"
"Basil, she asked you not to say that, and you said you wouldn't."
"Well, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. Pull out a hair, Susan D., and then I shall remember next time. Ouch! You pulled out two."
"I say, come on!" cried Merton. "We've got lots of things to see to. We have to—"
The voices were gone. Margaret sat still, sewing steadily, and working many thoughts into her seam.
It might have been half an hour after this that Basil burst into the room, breathless and beaming, his tow-colored hair standing on end. "Oh, Cousin Margaret, can I—I mean may I, go over to the bog? Mr. Merryweather said he would give me a lesson in surveying; and Frances is going to put me up some luncheon, and I'm in a norful hurry. May I go, please?"
"Yes, Basil; you may go after you have answered me one question."
"Yes, Cousin Margaret," said the diplomat. "I may miss Mr. Merryweather if I don't go pretty quick, but of course I will."
"Basil, did you make that strange noise last night?"
"No, Cousin Margaret!" cried the boy; the smile seemed to break from every corner of his face at once, and his eyes looked straight truth into hers. "I did not. Is that all? You said one question! Thank you ever and ever so much! Good-bye!" And he was gone.