"It's where my sister's gone to live, anyhow," said he.
"Then—then—"
Conviction forced itself first on the boy.
"What a duffer I've been! It's him she's married."
"Your sister?"
"Yes. Are you sure your father's a good sort?"
"How dare you ask!" said Charling. "It's your sister I want to know about."
"She's the dearest old darling!" he cried. "Oh! kiddie, come along; run for all you're worth, and perhaps we can get in the back way, and get tidied up before they come, and they need never know."
He held out his hand; Charling caught at it, and together they raced up the avenue. But getting in the back way was impossible, for Murchison met them full on the terrace, and Charling ran straight into his arms. There should have been scolding and punishment, no doubt, but Charling found none.
And, now, who so sleek and demure as the runaways, he in Eton jacket and she in spotless
