Dennis had sat down again on the floor: Colin, with a shout of laughter, put his fingers in the back of his collar, and pulled him down across his knees. “I think I’ve got hold of that ‘someone’ by the short hairs,” he said. “What brutes you boys are! What shall we do with this brute? How long are the holidays, Dennis?” “Three weeks and a bit.” “And where do you want to spend them?” “Oh here, of course.” “You’re just like me. I never want to go away from here, unless it’s to Capri. Now let’s talk in a whisper, so that your mother can’t hear. She doesn’t like Capri, Dennis. She’s not been there for twelve years. That summer, don’t you remember, when you were one year old?” “Of course I don’t remember,” said Dennis. “That’s because you didn’t attend. You must be more attentive next time you’re one year old. But there it is: she’ll never come with me--we’re still talking in a whisper--so next summer, if you’ll promise not to put mice in my bed, perhaps I’ll take you.” “Oh, I say, how ripping!” said Dennis. “You bathe all day, Mr. Douglas told me.” “Except when you’re basking in the sun. How is Mr. Douglas, by the way? I haven’t seen him. May I ask him to dine to-night, Vi? I know you don’t like him, darling, but he has a pretty lonely time when we’re away. I think we ought to have him in as often as we can when we’re here. He shall sit next Granny; he shan’t sit by you. And how is Granny?” Dennis was finding a father that he had never known before, and he felt himself expanding to him. Colin had released his hand from the boy’s collar, but Dennis’s head still lay contentedly on his knees. “Granny’s dotty, I think,” he observed. “I mean your granny, Father.” “Dennis, dear!” said Violet. She turned to Colin. “Granny’s been expecting you all day,” she said. “She always knows when you’re coming. She was out on the terrace this afternoon in her bath-chair, and when she saw Dennis, she thought it was you----” “Yes, Mother, that’s what I mean by dotty. It is dotty,” said Dennis. Colin tucked his hand under the boy’s head. “You shouldn’t call your aged relatives dotty, Dennis,” he said. “Your mother’s quite right. When I’m as old as your great-grandmamma, which will be in a week or two for time goes so fast, I shall be exceedingly vexed with you if you say I’m dotty. So there, old boy. She probably thought you were dotty when you told her you weren’t me----” “And then she thought I was Uncle Raymond,” continued Dennis. “That just shews----” “It just shews that you’re an ugly little devil,” observed Colin. “When you come down to dinner to-night----” “But I don’t,” said Dennis. “I have supper upstairs----” “Well, I ask you to come and have dinner with me to-night. Don’t drink too much port like your grandfathers and great-grandfathers.... What was I going to say? Oh, I know. Nip round, like a good boy, to Mr. Douglas’s rooms, and ask him to come to dinner to-night. Say it’s to have the honour of meeting you.”