"Oh, please!" whispered Geraldine; "and bring your sister, too!"
The boy stared at her knickerbockers. "Do you want to fight my sister?" he asked.
"I? Oh, no, no, no. You can fight Scott if you like, and your sister and I will have such fun watching you. Will you?"
His nurse was calling him to descend, in tones agitated and peremptory; the boy hesitated, scowled at Scott, looked uncertainly at Geraldine, then shot a hasty and hostile glance at the interior of the mysterious Seagrave estate. Curiosity overcame him; also, perhaps, a natural desire for battle.
"Yes," he said to Scott, "I'll come back and punch your head for you."
And very deftly, clinging like a squirrel to the pendant wistaria, he let himself down into the street again.
The Seagrave twins, intensely excited, watched them as far as Fifth Avenue, then rapidly drawing on their shoes and stockings, scrambled down to the shrubbery and raced for the house. Through it they passed like a double whirlwind; feeble and perfunctory resistance was offered by their nurses.
"Get out of my way!" said Geraldine fiercely; "do you think I'm going to miss the first chance for some fun that I've ever had in all my life?"
At the same moment, through the glass-sheeted grill Scott discovered two small figures dashing up the drive to the porte-cochère. And he turned on Lang like a wild cat.
Lang, the man at the door, was disposed to defend his post; Scott prepared to fly at him, but his sister intervened: