He said this with such a self-conscious air that Margaret ventured a guess.
"You are a—"
The little man laid his right hand on his heart, stuck out his left elbow and bent his body at the hips. With his eyes half closed and with a beaming smile, he said:
"Your Royal Highness has guessed right. I am of the Boxwoods."
"And the Boxwoods are harder than the Quartered Oaks, are they?" asked Margaret.
By way of reply, the little Admiral picked up a pebble and tapped himself on the cheek with it. It sounded like clapping the backs of two hair-brushes together.
"Why!" exclaimed Frances. "You are as hard as—as hard as a door-knob!"
The little man was evidently much pleased with the compliment. Becoming confidential, he stepped forward and said in a low tone:
"Between ourselves, Ladies, the Boxwood family is the hardest on the island. Nobody disputes our position; we come next to the King, himself."
"The King!" cried both children, inquiringly.