“But, aunt, I didn’t ask him. He volunteered it.”
“Fetch your uncle’s cup, Raby.”
Raby’s mouth puckers up into a queer little smile as she obeys.
Walker appears in a minute to confirm the report of Master Percy’s absence. “He’s been gone this three hours, mem.”
“Let some one go for him at once, Walker.”
“I get so terrified when he goes off like this,” says the mother; “there’s no knowing what may happen, and he is so careless.”
“He has a safe neck,” replies the father; “he always does turn up. But if you are so fidgety, why don’t you send Raby to look after him?”
“If any one went with him, it would need to be some one who, instead of encouraging him in his odd ways, would keep him in hand, and see he did not come to any harm.”
“Oh,” says Raby, laughing, “he wouldn’t take me with him if I paid him a hundred pounds. He says girls don’t know anything about science and inventions.”
“He is probably right,” observes Mrs Rimbolt severely.