CHAPTER VII
THE WATCH DOGS
“Well, if you ask me, she's up to something,” said Avice with conviction.
“How d'you mean?” Wilfred looked up curiously.
“Lots of things. She looks all different. First of all—look how red she is all the time, and the excited look in her eyes.”
“That's all look—look!” jeered her brother. “Girls always have those rotten ideas about nothing at all. Just because Cecilia's got a bit sunburnt, and because she's havin' an easy time 'cause Mater's away—”
“Oh, you think because you're a boy, you know everything,” retorted his sister hotly. “You just listen, and see if I've got rotten ideas. Did you know, she's kept her room locked for days?”
“Well—if she has? That's nothing.”
“You shut up and let me go on. Yesterday she forgot, and left it open while she was down talking to Cook, and I slipped in. And there was one of her great big trunks, that she always keeps in the box room, half-packed with her things. I nicked this necklace out of it, too,” said Avice with triumph, producing a quaint string of Italian beads.