"Shocking little ingrates!" she said. "Noel's joy when I go away is sometimes indecent.—But don't be afraid they'll be any trouble to us here. You see the rabble we have in any case."
"It's very good of you," Amory murmured awkwardly.
"Nothing of the sort. Stan loves to manage them—it keeps his hand in for managing me, he says.... Now, I don't want to hurry you, but you'd better be off if you're going to get as far as Liverpool to-night. Good-bye, dear——"
"Good-bye, Dorothy——"
"So long, Pratt—up with those bags, Tim——"
"Good-bye, Bonnie——"
"Corin! Corin!—(Hm! See if I don't have you in hand in another week or two, my boy!)—Come and say good-bye to your father."
"Good-bye, Lady Tasker——"
"All right?"
The wheels crunched; hands were waved; the rabble gave a shockingly undisciplined cheer; and young Arthur Woodgate, who had run along the terrace and stood holding the gate at the end open, saluted. Stan took out his watch again.