The Younger Set | Page 4

walking stick to a
brisk bayonet defence; "steady, men! Prepare to receive infantry--and
doggery, too!" he added, backing away. "No quarter! Remember the
Alamo!"
The man at the door had been too horrified to speak, but he found his
voice now.
"Oh, you hush up, Dawson!" said the boy; and to Selwyn he added
tentatively, "Hello!"
"Hello yourself," replied Selwyn, keeping off the circling pups with the
point of his stick. "What is this, anyway--a Walpurgis hunt?--or Eliza
and the bloodhounds?"
Several children, disentangling themselves from the heap, rose to
confront the visitor; the shocked man, Dawson, attempted to speak
again, but Selwyn's raised hand quieted him.
The small boy with the blond hair stepped forward and dragged several
dogs from the vicinity of Selwyn's shins.
"This is the Shallowbrook hunt," he explained; "I am Master of Hounds;
my sister Drina, there, is one of the whips. Part of the game is to all fall
down together and pretend we've come croppers. You see, don't you?"
"I see," nodded Selwyn; "it's a pretty stiff hunting country, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. There's wire, you know," volunteered the girl, Drina,

rubbing the bruises on her plump shins.
"Exactly," agreed Selwyn; "bad thing, wire. Your whips should warn
you."
The big black cat, horribly bored by the proceedings, had settled down
on a hall seat, keeping one disdainful yellow eye on the dogs.
"All the same, we had a pretty good run," said Drina, taking the cat into
her arms and seating herself on the cushions; "didn't we, Kit-Ki?" And,
turning to Selwyn, "Kit-Ki makes a pretty good fox--only she isn't
enough afraid of us to run away very fast. Won't you sit down? Our
mother is not at home, but we are."
"Would you really like to have me stay?" asked Selwyn.
"Well," admitted Drina frankly, "of course we can't tell yet how
interesting you are because we don't know you. We are trying to be
polite--" and, in a fierce whisper, turning on the smaller of the
boys--"Winthrop! take your finger out of your mouth and stop staring
at guests! Billy, you make him behave himself."
The blond-haired M.F.H. reached for his younger brother; the infant
culprit avoided him and sullenly withdrew the sucked finger but not his
fascinated gaze.
"I want to know who he ith," he lisped in a loud aside.
"So do I," admitted a tiny maid in stickout skirts.
Drina dropped the cat, swept the curly hair from her eyes, and stood up
very straight in her kilts and bare knees.
"They don't really mean to be rude," she explained; "they're only
children." Then, detecting the glimmering smile in Selwyn's eyes, "But
perhaps you wouldn't mind telling us who you are because we all
would like to know, but we are not going to be ill-bred enough to ask."
Their direct expectant gaze slightly embarrassed him; he laughed a

little, but there was no response from them.
"Well," he said, "as a matter of fact and record, I am a sort of relative of
yours--a species of avuncular relation."
"What is that?" asked Drina coldly.
"That," said Selwyn, "means that I'm more or less of an uncle to you.
Hope you don't mind. You don't have to entertain me, you know."
"An uncle!" repeated Drina.
"Our uncle?" echoed Billy. "You are not our soldier uncle, are you?
You are not our Uncle Philip, are you?"
"It amounts to that," admitted Selwyn. "Is it all right?"
There was a dead silence, broken abruptly by Billy; "Where is your
sword, then?"
"At the hotel. Would you like to see it, Billy?"
The five children drew a step nearer, inspecting him with merciless
candour.
"Is it all right?" asked Selwyn again, smilingly uneasy under the
concentrated scrutiny. "How about it, Drina? Shall we shake hands?"
Drina spoke at last: "Ye-es," she said slowly, "I think it is all right to
shake hands." She took a step forward, stretching out her hand.
Selwyn stooped; she laid her right hand across his, hesitated, looked up
fearlessly, and then, raising herself on tiptoe, placed both arms upon his
shoulders, offering her lips.
One by one the other children came forward to greet this promising
new uncle whom the younger among them had never before seen, and
whom Drina, the oldest, had forgotten except as that fabled warrior of
legendary exploits whose name and fame had become cherished

classics of their nursery.
And now children and dogs clustered amicably around him; under foot
tails wagged, noses sniffed; playful puppy teeth tweaked at his
coat-skirts; and in front and at either hand eager flushed little faces
were upturned to his, shy hands sought his and nestled confidently into
the hollow of his palms or took firm proprietary hold of sleeve and
coat.
"I infer," observed Selwyn blandly,