The Danger Mark | Page 6

house. Through it they passed
like a double whirlwind; feeble and perfunctory resistance was offered
by their nurses.
"Get out of my way!" said Geraldine fiercely; "do you think I'm going
to miss the first chance for some fun that I've ever had in all my life?"
At the same moment, through the glass-sheeted grill Scott discovered
two small figures dashing up the drive to the porte-cochère. And he
turned on Lang like a wild cat.
Lang, the man at the door, was disposed to defend his post; Scott
prepared to fly at him, but his sister intervened:
"Oh, Lang," she pleaded, jumping up and down in an agony of
apprehension, "please, please, let them in! We've never had any
friends." She caught his arm piteously; he looked fearfully embarrassed,
for the Seagrave livery was still new to him; nor, during his brief
service, had he fully digested the significance of the policy which so
rigidly guarded these little children lest rumour from without apprise
them of their financial future and the contaminating realisation
undermine their simplicity.

As he stood, undecided, Geraldine suddenly jerked his hand from the
bronze knob and Scott flung open the door.
"Come on! Quick!" he cried; and the next moment four small pairs of
feet were flying through the hall, echoing lightly across the terrace,
then skimming the lawn to the sheltering shrubbery beyond.
"The thing to do," panted Scott, "is to keep out of sight." He seized his
guests by the arms and drew them behind the rhododendrons. "Now,"
he said, "what's your name? You, I mean!"
"Duane Mallett," replied the boy, breathless. "That's my sister, Naïda.
Let's wait a moment before we begin to fight; Naïda and I had to run
like fury to get away from our nurse."
Naïda was examining Geraldine with an interest almost respectful.
"I wish they'd let me dress like a boy," she said. "It's fun, isn't it?"
"Yes. They don't let me do it; I just did it," replied Geraldine. "I'll get
you a suit of Scott's clothes, if you like. I can get the boxing-gloves at
the same time. Shall I, Scott?"
"Go ahead," said Scott; "we can pretend there are four boys here." And,
to Duane, as Geraldine sped cautiously away on her errand: "That's a
thing I never did before."
"What thing?"
"Play with three boys all by myself. Kathleen--who is Mrs. Severn, our
guardian--is always with us when we are permitted to speak to other
boys and girls."
"That's babyish," remarked Duane in frank disgust. "You are a
mollycoddle."
The deep red of mortification spread over Scott's face; he looked shyly
at Naïda, doubly distressed that a girl should hear the degrading term
applied to him. The small girl returned his gaze without a particle of

expression in her face.
"Mollycoddles," continued Duane cruelly, "do the sort of things you do.
You're one."
"I--don't want to be one," stammered Scott. "How can I help it?"
Duane ignored the appeal. "Playing with three boys isn't anything," he
said. "I play with forty every day."
"W-where?" asked Scott, overwhelmed.
"In school, of course--at recess--and before nine, and after one. We
have fine times. School's all right. Don't you even go to school?"
Scott shook his head, too ashamed to speak. Naïda, with a flirt of her
kilted skirts, had abruptly turned her back on him; yet he was miserably
certain she was listening to her brother's merciless catechism.
"I suppose you don't even know how to play hockey," commented
Duane contemptuously.
There was no answer.
"What do you do? Play with dolls? Oh, what a molly!"
Scott raised his head; he had grown quite white. Naïda, turning, saw the
look on the boy's face.
"Duane doesn't mean that," she said; "he's only teasing."
Geraldine came hurrying back with the boxing-gloves and a suit of
Scott's very best clothes, halting when she perceived the situation, for
Scott had walked up to Duane, and the boys stood glaring at one
another, hands doubling up into fists.
"You think I'm a molly?" asked Scott in a curiously still voice.
"Yes, I do."

"Oh, Scott!" cried Geraldine, pushing in between them, "you'll have to
hammer him well for that----"
Naïda turned and shoved her brother aside:
"I don't want you to fight him," she said. "I like him."
"Oh, but they must fight, you know," explained Geraldine earnestly. "If
we didn't fight, we'd really be what you call us. Put on Scott's clothes,
Naïda, and while our brothers are fighting, you and I will wrestle to
prove that I'm not a mollycoddle----"
"I don't want to," said Naïda tremulously. "I like you, too----"
"Well, you're one if you don't!" retorted Geraldine. "You can like
anybody and have fun fighting them, too."
"Put on those clothes, Naïda," said Duane sternly. "Are you going