"Hulloa, Van—Hulloa, Percy." Pickering Dodge tried his best to cover this remark by an extra amount of hilarity, as he clapped each of the boys smartly on the back. "Well, you're an awful long time in getting here—I should say half an hour late."
"For shame, Van!" cried Percy at his heels, and edging off toward Polly.
"For shame?" repeated Van, hotly; "well, that's no more than you've been saying on the train,—'we can't have any Christmas,'—and you know it, Percy Whitney."
"Stop that, you little beggar." Pickering's long arm got possession of Van, who, instead of occupying the vantage-ground of first arrival, had now the vexation of seeing Percy in that coveted position.
"Why did you pull me back?" he cried in a small fury at hearing the bustle and excitement of the group he had just left so summarily.
"Because you were making yourself a nuisance. Fancy such a way to come home for the holidays, Van."
"There aren't to be any holidays," howled Van, his face very red. "Let me go, Pick," struggling violently to free himself from Pickering's long fingers.
"No, indeed." Pickering wound his fingers into a still tighter hold. "Not much, sir, until you stop those whines. How you can go on so, I don't see!"
By this time, Pickering, over his shoulder, had the ill luck to see Clare take the first place in marshalling off the party, a position he had fully expected to occupy himself whenever Jasper and Ben were away. All this didn't in the least add to his satisfaction. "Well, I wish you'd stayed back in your school," he declared in extreme irritation. And Alexia, running up, only made matters worse by crying out: "Come on, Van, I'm sure it's bad enough to bear all these dreadful things without coming clear down here for a boy like you. Do come on, we're all waiting for you." So it was a very gloomy party that finally became settled in the two carriages.
"I'm not going to sit with him," declared Van, having freed himself from Pickering, and bolting for the second carriage.