Miss Priscilla Smith
At Home Every Day
She laid it on the stones, and tripped away. "I'm sorry I have not my brother's card to leave also," she said, looking up at the brigand chief, who had been watching her curiously from a window.
"Oh," said Nipper Donnan, "we shall be pleased to see him if he drops in on Saturday—or any other time."
Then he waited till the trim white figure was some distance from the gateway before he took his cap from his head and waved it in the air.
"Three proper cheers for the little lady!" he cried.
And the grim old walls of the Castle of Windy Standard never echoed to a heartier shout than that with which the Smoutchy boys sped Miss Priscilla Smith, the daughter of their arch enemy, upon her homeward way.
Prissy poised herself on tiptoe at the entrance of the copse, and blew them a dainty collective kiss from her fingers.
"Thank you so much," she cried, "you are very kind. Come and see me soon—and be sure you stop to tea."