"Y-es—no!—I don't know," admitted Drina; "are they, Eileen?"
"Why, yes—that is—that is to say—" And turning to Selwyn: "What dreadful questions. Are they relations, Captain Selwyn? Of course they are!"
"They were not before they were married," he said, laughing.
"If you married Eileen," began Billy, "you'd call her Eileen, I suppose."
"Certainly," said Selwyn.
"Why don't you?"
"That is another thing you must ask her, my son."
"Well, then, Eileen—"
But Miss Erroll was already seated at the nursery piano, and his demands were drowned in a decisive chord which brought the children clustering around her, while their nurses ran among them untying bibs and scrubbing faces and fingers in fresh water.
They sang like seraphs, grouped around the piano, fingers linked behind their backs. First it was "The Vicar of Bray." Then—and the cat fled at the first chord—"Lochleven Castle":