"I won't, for true, Cissy—and I shan't ever look at another girl nor play horses with them even if they ask me ever so."
"You will, I know you will!"
A rumble of wheels, a shout from the front door—"Hugh John—wherever can that boy have got to?"
"Good-bye, Ciss, I must go. Oh hang it, don't go making a fellow cry. Well, I will say it then, 'I love you, Ciss!' There—will that satisfy you?"
"A SLIM BUNDLE OF LIMP WOE."
Something lit on the end of Cissy's nose, which was very red and wet with the tears that had run down it. There was a clatter of feet, and the Lord of Creation had departed. Cissy sank down behind the stone wall, a slim bundle of limp woe, done up in blue serge trimmed with scarlet.
The servants were gathered in the hall. Several of the maids were already wet-eyed, for Hugh John had "the way with him" that made all women want to "mother" him. Besides, he had no mother of his own.