He grasped her hand.
"Not you—I say—" he stammered.
"I'm going to call you Ted, and you may call me Nell. I feel as if I've known you for ages, and the other's so stiff, and we'll be friends 'till the sun has burnt itself down to the bigness of a farthing rushlight,' shall we?"
"Er—yes—"
She teased him, her dimples dancing.
"Say, 'Yes, Nell!'"
"Yes, N-N-Nell!"
CHAPTER XVIII
Christmas was drawing very near. The stock of stuffed animals was growing large; toys overflowed the Stronghold. A pillow-case, purloined from the bed in the spare room, did duty as a bag to hold some of them. In a spasm of artistic joy Nell had painted a rough sketch of a hunting scene on it, and they lived in terror that Miss Kezia would see it.
The doll's house was furnished throughout; in the bedroom two little dolls in white night-dresses lay in bed. In the dining room three sat at the table. They had intended to dress two more for the nursery, but Nell, having put in the last stitch on the fifth doll, flung it down on to the table, jumped up: "Denis, come dance with me! Not another hateful little doll will I touch! They drive me crazy! Little, fiddley things! I'm doing enough sewing lately to canonise me as Saint Eileen of the needle!"