Then he went on, with a pretty little lisp between the two lost teeth left on a field of battle: "But we've had some fun all these weeks, mother, dodging the work-people. They couldn't find out how we got in and out," delightedly, "even when we forgot the keys; there's always holes, somewhere. We didn't let 'em know; we just 'peared, and walked past the house, riling them. And if they ran us, didn't we just dodge 'em down the hill!" "And now he says," put in David, "that he's written to father, and that he'll have no trespassing. Trespassing, indeed!" "An' Dave called back that he was the trespasser, 'trudin' where he wasn't wanted," said Sandy gleefully, "an' that he'd better go back to Blackton, an' not fink he could come here and be a gentleman, cos no one would look at him!" "Oh, David," said his mother reproachfully, "how could you? He will think we don't grow gentlemen here." "Don't care for his thinks," muttered David. "Heard Charity and Mrs. Lytchett say it." "No, David," put in Marjorie. "Charity said anyone from Blackton would feel like an intrusion, and all Mrs. Lytchett said was, that if he didn't like it he could always go back." "That's exactly what I said, too, on'y the words came different." "If he finks we're goin' all that way round twice a day, he's jolly w'ong," remarked Sandy injuredly. "We'd have to start hours an' hours earlier--not us!" Again the door opened, and a tall man came in, whose first look of anxious inquiry was directed towards the table where his papers were lying. Sandy's impatient elbow was dug into the middle of them, as he fidgeted about on one leg. Mr. Bethune sat down in the three-cornered chair before the table, and rescued his papers, at the same time keeping Sandy by his side. "So you two have been in mischief again?" he said gently, looking gravely at his sons. "I'm afraid David has been rude, too," put in the mother, a little anxiously. David, with a put-on air of unconcern, looked out of the window, where two more sturdy boys, younger, but made after the same pattern as the two inside, were now visible on the garden path. They were dilatorily obeying a call from Marjorie, and making for the window. "I have had a letter," went on Mr. Bethune. "It's a nice letter, and what Mr. Pelham says is reasonable." "Bounder!" muttered David, and Sandy said "Beast!" The father lifted his eyes from the letter. "You will have to apologise. Mr. Pelham is quite right. You have no business there. I will write a letter, and you will take it. Marjorie, will you see if tea is ready?" in a fatigued tone. "Mother looks tired out." "Come, boys," said Marjorie. And the clamour that immediately ensued round the tea-table in the next room showed that rebellion and anarchy were in the air. When they had gone their father laughed quietly.