The Younger Set | Page 5

himself already on the stairway, and still being dragged upward.
"Our governess is away," said Billy triumphantly, "and our nurses can do nothing with us."
"I don't doubt it," murmured Selwyn; "but where are they?"
"Somebody must have locked them in the schoolroom," observed Billy carelessly. "Come on, Uncle Philip; we'll have a first-class drag-hunt before we unlock the schoolroom and let them out."
"Anyway, they can brew tea there if they are lonely," added Drina, ushering Selwyn into the big sunny nursery, where he stood, irresolute, looking about him, aware that he was conniving at open mutiny. From somewhere on the floor above persistent hammering and muffled appeals satisfied him as to the location and indignation of the schoolroom prisoners.
"You ought to let them out," he said. "You'll surely be punished."
"We will let them out after we've made noise enough," said Billy calmly. "We'll probably be punished anyway, so we may as well make a noise."
"Yes," added Drina, "we are going to make all the noise we can while we have the opportunity. Billy, is everything ready?"
And before Selwyn understood precisely what was happening, he found himself the centre of a circle of madly racing children and dogs. Round and round him they tore. Billy yelled for the hurdles and Josephine knocked over some chairs and dragged them across the course of the route; and over them leaped and scrambled children and puppies, splitting the air with that same quality of din which had greeted him upon his entrance to his sister's house.
When there was no more breath left in the children, and when the dogs lay about, grinning and lolling, Drina approached him, bland and dishevelled.
"That circus," she explained, "was for your entertainment. Now will you please do something for ours?"
"Certainly," said Selwyn, looking about him vaguely; "shall we--er--build blocks, or shall I read to you--er--out of that big picture-book--"
"_Picture_-book!" repeated Billy with scorn; "that's good enough for nurses to read. You're a soldier, you know. Soldiers have real stories to tell."
"I see," he said meekly. "What am I to tell you about--our missionaries in Sulu?"
"In the first place," began Drina, "you are to lie down flat on the floor and creep about and show us how the Moros wriggle through the grass to bolo our sentinels."
"Why, it's--it's this way," began Selwyn, leaning back in his rocking-chair and comfortably crossing one knee over the other; "for instance, suppose--"
"Oh, but you must show us!" interrupted Billy. "Get down on the floor please, uncle."
"I can tell it better!" protested Selwyn; "I can show you just the--"
"Please lie down and show us how they wriggle?" begged Drina.
"I don't want to get down on the floor," he said feebly; "is it necessary?"
But they had already discovered that he could be bullied, and they had it their own way; and presently Selwyn lay prone upon the nursery floor, impersonating a ladrone while pleasant shivers chased themselves over Drina, whom he was stalking.
And it was while all were passionately intent upon the pleasing and snake-like progress of their uncle that a young girl in furs, ascending the stairs two at a time, peeped perfunctorily into the nursery as she passed the hallway--and halted amazed.
Selwyn, sitting up rumpled and cross-legged on the floor, after having boloed Drina to everybody's exquisite satisfaction, looked around at the sudden rustle of skirts to catch a glimpse of a vanishing figure--a glimmer of ruddy hair and the white curve of a youthful face, half-buried in a muff.
Mortified, he got to his feet, glanced out into the hallway, and began adjusting his attire.
"No, you don't!" he said mildly, "I decline to perform again. If you want any more wriggling you must accomplish it yourselves. Drina, has your governess--by any unfortunate chance--er--red hair?"
"No," said the child; "and won't you please crawl across the floor and bolo me--just once more?"
"Bolo me!" insisted Billy. "I haven't been mangled yet!"
"Let Billy assassinate somebody himself. And, by the way, Drina, are there any maids or nurses or servants in this remarkable house who occasionally wear copper-tinted hair and black fox furs?"
"No. Eileen does. Won't you please wriggle--"
"Who is Eileen?"
"Eileen? Why--don't you know who Eileen is?"
"No, I don't," began Captain Selwyn, when a delighted shout from the children swung him toward the door again. His sister, Mrs. Gerard, stood there in carriage gown and sables, radiant with surprise.
"Phil! _You!_ Exactly like you, Philip, to come strolling in from the antipodes--dear fellow!" recovering from the fraternal embrace and holding both lapels of his coat in her gloved hands. "Six years!" she said again and again, tenderly reproachful; "Alexandrine was a baby of six--Drina, child, do you remember my brother--do you remember your Uncle Philip? She doesn't remember; you can't expect her to recollect; she is only twelve, Phil--"
"I remember one thing," observed Drina serenely.
Brother and sister turned toward her in pride