"That," said Selwyn, "means that I'm more or less of an uncle to you. Hope you don't mind. You don't have to entertain me, you know."
"An uncle!" repeated Drina.
"Our uncle?" echoed Billy. "You are not our soldier uncle, are you? You are not our Uncle Philip, are you?"
"It amounts to that," admitted Selwyn. "Is it all right?"
There was a dead silence, broken abruptly by Billy; "Where is your sword, then?"
"At the hotel. Would you like to see it, Billy?"
The five children drew a step nearer, inspecting him with merciless candour.
"Is it all right?" asked Selwyn again, smilingly uneasy under the concentrated scrutiny. "How about it, Drina? Shall we shake hands?"
Drina spoke at last: "Ye-es," she said slowly, "I think it is all right to shake hands." She took a step forward, stretching out her hand.
Selwyn stooped; she laid her right hand across his, hesitated, looked up fearlessly, and then, raising herself on tiptoe, placed both arms upon his shoulders, offering her lips.