Dear little Geraldine Audrey! Everyone loved her. She was always so
desperately in earnest, so unsuspicious of fraud, that her little life
was made a burden to her in the holidays by reason of the pranks of her
big brothers. They sent her into village shops to demand "a halfpenny-
worth of pennies," they kept her shivering in the drive staring at the
lions on the top of the gate-posts, to see them wag their tails when
they heard the clock strike twelve; they despatched her into the garden
with neat little packets of salt to put on the birds' tails, and watched
the poor mite's efforts in contortions of laughter from behind the
window curtains. The Mouse was more sorrowful than angry when the
nature of these tricks was explained to her. "I fought you told the
trufh," she would say quietly, and then Raymond and Bob would pick her
up in their arms, and try to make amends for their wickedness by petting
her for the rest of the day.
On the third day of Rex's visit, the weather was so tempestuous that
even Raymond and Bob did not stir from the house. They spent the
morning over chemical experiments in the schoolroom, but when afternoon
came they wearied of the unusual confinement and were glad to join the
cosy party downstairs. Norah had a brilliant inspiration, and suggested
"Chestnuts," and Master Raymond sat in comfort, directing the efforts of
poor red-faced Bob, as he bent over the fire and roasted his fingers as
well as the nuts. When half a dozen young people are gathered round a
fire, catching hot nuts in outstretched hands, and promptly dropping
them with shrieks of dismay, the last remnants of shyness must needs
disappear; and Rex was soon as uproarious as any other member of the
family, complaining loudly when his "turn" was forgotten, and abusing
the unfortunate Bob for presenting him with a cinder instead of the
expected dainty. The clatter of tongues was kept up without a moment's
intermission, and, as is usual under such circumstances, the
conversation was chiefly concerned with the past exploits of the family.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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