"Did you enjoy yourself, Aunt Kezia?"
There was a little dreadful pause.
Then—"I do not go to nurse my sick friends for enjoyment, Molly!"
Nell clutched Ted's arm despairingly, and then suddenly, glancing wildly about to keep her eyes from the comical little group, she caught sight of Denis's wicked face peering at them from Herr Schmidt's window. He met her eye, winked, and rolled away from the window in roars of laughter.
She struggled—she pinched Ted's arm cruelly—and she glared, fascinated, at that window. In a minute he reappeared, his eyes wet, studied them a moment, and rolled away again, roaring. His face was irresistible. She could see how he was roaring. She gave one last frantic pinch of Ted's arm, and burst out into wild laughter—hopeless, unmistakable, helpless laughter.
Ted looked at her, then at Miss Kezia's crimson face, and leant helplessly against the front door. Poor Molly made the most awful sounds in her agitated efforts not to laugh, and Sheila Pat's face grew momentarily more impish. Then the front door was opened with a suspicious suddenness, and Ted went headlong in—Denis dodged—he stumbled and staggered into the wall, where he recovered his equilibrium, and stood ruefully rubbing his head.
"All right, old man, I'll remember it!" he declared.
Nell fled ignominiously, laughing and shaking, up the stairs and into the Stronghold, and banged the door. Down to the others there floated a long ripple of helpless laughter.
They followed Miss Kezia into the morning room, and there she turned and faced them.
Ted looked about him interestedly. He was distinctly amused; to be held up like this and lectured as if he were a naughty little boy was new to him, and he enjoyed it immensely.