“We were sorry not to see you last Wednesday. I hope your cold is better.”
“Yes, thank you.” And a smile began to dimple about Rose's mouth, as she remembered her retreat under the bed-cover.
Feeling that he had been received with distinguished marks of attention, Steve strolled away with his topknot higher than ever, and Prince Charlie pranced across the room, saying in a free and easy tone,
“Mamma sent her love and hopes you will be well enough to come over for a day next week. It must be desperately dull here for a little thing like you.”
“I'm thirteen and a half, though I do look small,” cried Rose, forgetting her shyness in indignation at this insult to her newly acquired teens.
“Beg pardon, ma'am; never should have guessed it.” And Charlie went off with a laugh, glad to have struck a spark out of his meek cousin.
Geordie and Will came together, two sturdy eleven and twelve year olders, and, fixing their round blue eyes on Rose, fired off a question apiece, as if it was a shooting match and she the target.
“Did you bring your monkey?”
“No; he is dead.”
“Are you going to have a boat?”