“I was there—in a bush,” I said, laughing. “But it didn’t seem necessary for me to interfere, for you certainly got all that was coming to you, didn’t you?”
“My Aunt, I did!” Jack said. “And you never said a thing! Why, all our other governesses would have sung hymns of joy!”
“From this out,” said Judy solemnly, “I refuse to look on you as a governess. You are a Member of the Band. Isn’t she, Jack?”
“Rather!” said Jack. “Will you, Miss Earle?”
“I will,” I said. “But if I belong to the Band, the Band has got to play the game. No more night excursions unless I go too. Is it a bargain?”
They said it was, and we shook hands with all formality.
“We’ll back you up no end,” said Judy. “ ’Means we’ve got to be horribly respectable, but it can’t be helped, Jack.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ve always known we’d have to be respectable some day, but I hoped it wouldn’t be until we were quite old. But you’ve been an awful brick, Miss Earle, and we jolly well won’t let you down.”
“And when we’re at school in Melbourne, don’t you think the Band could meet some Saturday?” Jack asked. The outlaw in him had vanished for the moment; he looked just a wistful small boy, with the traces of tears still on his freckled face.
“It will be arranged,” I told him. “And would you like my brother Colin to come to the meeting?”
They gaped at me.