"Ha, Wyn, so you've got the puppy? Miss Geraldine will be out directly. What a jolly little chap he is! Put him down on my knee. No--no, sir, you don't eat the newspaper! Anything else new, Wyn?" "Yes, sir, the wild duck's eggs are hatched, and there are seven of them on the lower pond. Should you like to go and see them, sir?" "Yes, I should. Get the pony round in half an hour. It's a lovely day." As he spoke a tall girl of about fourteen, in a blue linen frock made sailor fashion and a sailor hat stuck on the back of her long dark hair, came running up the broad walk in the middle of the garden, sprang up the shallow steps that led to the terrace with one bound, and pounced on the puppy. "Oh! what a little darling! What a perfect pet! Oh, how jolly of you to get him for me, Edgar! I'll teach him to walk on his hind legs and to die--and to bark when I ask him if he loves me--" "Have you got Miss Hardman's leave to keep him?" said her brother. "No, not yet. I thought I'd put him in the cupboard in my room, and introduce him gradually." "He'll howl continually, Miss Geraldine, if you shut him up," said Wyn. "Nonsense," said Edgar; "go and ask her if you may have him as a present from me." "Oh, must I? It would be such fun to have him in a secret chamber, and visit him at night and save the schoolroom tea for him as if he was a Jacobite," said Geraldine. "More fun for you than for the puppy, I should say," said Edgar. "Well, I think a secret prisoner would be delightful--like the `Pigeon Pie.' Edgar, didn't you ever read the `Pigeon Pie'?" "No," said Edgar, "I haven't had that pleasure." "Please, ma'am," said Wyn with a smile, "I have. My sister Bessie brought it me out of her school library." "I'm sure," said Geraldine, "it's a very nice book for you to read, Wyn. But what shall I call the puppy?" "Please, ma'am, we calls them Wriggle and Wruggle." "Rigoletto?" suggested Edgar. "No," said Geraldine, "it ought to be Star or Sunshine, or something like that, for I'm sure he'll be a light in a dark place. I know-- Apollo. I shall call him Apollo. Well, I'll take him and fall on my knees to Miss Hardman, and beg her and pray her. And oh, Edgar! it's holidays--mayn't I come back and go with you to see the creatures?" Edgar nodded, and Geraldine flew off, but was stopped in her career by her cousin James, who came out of the house as she passed, and detained her to shake hands and look at the puppy. He came up to Edgar's chair as Wyn went off to fetch the pony. "Good morning, Edgar," he said; "pretty well to-day? I see you are teaching Geraldine to be as fond of pets as you are yourself." "Poor little girl! she has a dull life," said Edgar. "I wish she had more companions." "She is beginning to grow up." "She is. She ought soon to be brought more forward, I suppose. But we never see anyone, or do anything. I don't see much of Geraldine-- often--and she is kept very tight at her lessons."