“No! You surprise me. They are of the best Italian pedigree.”
Meanwhile, he was achieving his object, which was to drive Mrs. Crowe back towards the wicket.
Helen’s voice came to them shrilly:
“That will do, Davie! Do you hear me?”
“Why, bless my ’eart, there’s Miss Layton,” said Mrs. Crowe.
“What a fine little boy this is!” exclaimed Brett, stooping over a curly-haired urchin. “Is he the oldest?”
“Good gracious, sir, no. He’s the youngest.”
“Dear me, I would not have thought so. You must have been married very early. Here, my little man, see what you can buy for half-a-crown.”
“What a nice gentleman he is, to be sure,” thought the lodge-keeper’s wife, when Brett passed through the smaller gate, assured that the struggle in the park had ended.
“Just fancy ’im a-thinkin’ Jimmy was the eldest, when I will be a grandmother come August if all goes well wi’ Kate.”