'Like the young lambs,
A sporting about by the side of their dams.'
In disgrace, indeed! we are 'Barbara, child,' and 'Algy, my dear fellow,' and 'Bobby, love.'"
"Bobby!" cries Tou Tou, in a high key of indignation at this monstrously palpable instance of unveracity, and nearly capsizing, as she speaks, into a rabbit-hole, which, in her backward progress—we are crossing the park—she has not perceived.
"Well," replies Bobby, candidly, "that last yarn may not be quite a fact, I own that; but I appeal to you, Barbara, is not it true i' the main? Are not we all 'good fellows,' and 'dear boys?'"
"I am thankful to say that we are," replies Barbara, laughing; "but how long we shall remain so is quite another thing."
"I have brought a present for him," say I, rather nervously; "do you think he will be pleased?"
"He will say that he very much regrets that you should have taken the trouble to waste your money upon him, as he did last birthday, when we exerted ourselves to lay out ten shillings and sixpence on that spectacle-case," answers Bobby, cheerfully.
"But what is it?"
"What is it?" cry Barbara and Tou Tou in a breath.
"It is a—a traveling-bag," reply I, with a little hesitation, looking imploringly from Barbara to Bobby. "Do you think he will like it?"