"Ye—es."
"Nigel, my boy, you haven't let the grass grow under your feet."
"Idiot!—we never exchanged a word except in the way of business. She wanted to know my name, but I took care to say Smith. There was nothing exciting about it at all—only an infernal loss of time."
"Quite so. You didn't find me in a particularly good temper when you turned up at Hackenden."
"The first words that passed between us were—'Is that you, you ass?' and 'Yes, you fool.' We haven't done the thing properly at all—we've forgotten to fall on each other's necks."
"Let's do it now," said Len, and the two boys collapsed into a mock embrace, in the grips of which they staggered up and down the kitchen, knocking over several chairs.
"Oh, stop, you duffers!" shouted Janet; but she was laughing. "Nigel hasn't changed a bit," she said to herself.
"What have they been doing to your clothes?" asked Leonard, as his brother finally hurled him off. "They stink, lad, they stink."
"They've been fumigated," said Nigel. "I've worn off some of the reek in the train, but to-morrow Janey shall peg 'em out to air."
"We'll hang 'em across the road from the orchard. Lord! won't the Wilderwick freaks sit up!"