"We saw you, we saw you!" gasps Tommy, breathless from his run up the hill: "we saw you far away down there on the road, and we told Bridgie" (the maid) "that we'd run up, and she said 'cut along,' so here we are." "You are, indeed," says Dysart, with feeling. "We knew you'd be glad to see us," goes on Tommy to Joyce in the beautiful roar he always adopts when excited; "you haven't been home for years, and Bridgie says that's because you are going to be married to----" "Get up, Tommy, you are too heavy, and, besides, I want to kiss Mabel," says Tommy's aunt with prodigious haste and a hot cheek. "But mammy says you're a silly Billy," says Mabel in her shrill treble, "an' that----" "Mammy is a shockingly rude person," says Mr. Dysart, hurrying to break into the dangerous confidence, no matter at what cost, even at the expense of the adored mammy. His remark is taken very badly. "She's not," says Tommy, glowering at him. "Father says she's an angel, and he knows. I heard him say it, and angels are never rude!" "'Twas after he made her cry about something," says Mabel, lifting her little flower-like face to Dysart's in a miniature imitation of her brother's indignation. "She was boo-booing like anything, and then father got sorry--oh!--dreadful sorry--and he said she was an angel, and she said----" "Oh, Mabel!" says Joyce, weakly, "you know you oughtn't to say such----" "Well, 'twas your fault, 'twas all about you," says Tommy, defiantly. "Why don't you come home? Father says you ought to come, and mammy says she doesn't know which of 'em it'll be; and father says it won't be any of them, and--what's it all about?" turning a frankly inquisitive little face up to hers. "They wouldn't tell us, and we want to know which of 'em it will be." "Yes, an' is it jints?" demands Mabel, who probably means giants, and not cold meats. "I don't know what she means," says Miss Kavanagh, coldly. "I say, you two," says Mr. Dysart, brilliantly, "wouldn't you like to run a race? Bridget must be tired of waiting for you down there at the end of the hill, and----" "She isn't waiting, she's talking to Mickey Daly," says Tommy. "Oh, I see. Well, look here. I bet you, Tommy, strong as you look, Mabel can outrun you down the hill." "She! she!" cries Tommy, indignantly; "I could beat her in a minute." "You can't," cries Mabel in turn. "Nurse says I'm twice the child that you are." "Your legs are as short as a pin," roars Tommy; "you couldn't run." "I can. I can. I can," says Mabel, on the verge of a violent flood of tears. "Well, we'll see," says Mr. Dysart, who now begins to think he has thrown himself away on a silly Hussar regiment, when he ought to have taken rank as a distinguished diplomat. "Come, I'll start you both down the hill, and whichever reaches Bridget first wins the day." Instantly both children spring to the front of the path. "You're standing before me, Tommy." "No, I'm not." "You're cheating--you are!"